


The Girl Behind the Mask

by butterfreebutterwhy



Series: Lives Made of Dreams [1]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anonymity, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Idol, Pre-debut, Teenagers, Trainee, Trainee Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-24 20:16:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterfreebutterwhy/pseuds/butterfreebutterwhy
Summary: Nova has hidden behind a mask for as long as she could remember. Either it was in school--hiding from the "popular" crowd who hated her for as long as she could remember for some reason she did not know--or at home--keeping who she really is hidden from her parents. The only time she could truly be herself was in the studio.Then, one day, she's given the choice of a lifetime: put on a mask and be an idol or never have a chance like this again.She chose the mask.She chose to hide everything.





	1. Note//Warning//Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the pieces of PacketofSuga and my "Lives Made of Dreams" series. There are two main chunks to our stories ("The Girl Behind the Mask" told by Nova and written by me, "The Bird" told by Skye who PacketofSuga writes for). Although this story says there are co-creators, it's more accurate to say that just the series has co-creators while the stories are primarily written by the respective writers.

Hello, my darlings!

Sadly, this is not a chapter, but just a note from me. I just figured you all deserved a little warning before delving into this fic.

This fic is an edited version of an older fic of mine, Butterfly. I started that out as a bit of a joke, but kept at it since it kept me writing daily. Soon enough I found myself at 126 posted chapters and 124,000 words.

After a while I realized that the quality was nothing compared to my original works. At first I wrote it off as just a fanfiction thing. Recently I decided to rewrite it--honestly, mainly because I hated her original name--but going back I saw how much it was missing.

In my old fic I never reread my chapters and I didn’t edit anything. I didn’t think I really had anyone reading it. I skipped around A LOT and, honestly, reading and/or writing it is just a huge disappointment at this point in time.

So, since I really like the idea behind that fic, I decided to do this. I changed a few names, changed a few concepts, and eventually I ended up with my newest little girl. This isn’t my only fic and nowadays I put a lot more effort into my chapters, even if some are just edited and nothing super special is added, so chapters won’t be as often as they were with my first draft.

I hope you guys enjoy this, and to those of you coming from Butterfly, two things. First off, thank you for staying with me, and secondly, why?

-butterfreebutterwhy (Alana)


	2. Chapter One

“Aella” was such a pretty name. It was the name of an Amazon, daughter of the war God, Ares, and another deity. It was the name of the woman who had nearly beat the great Herakles. It was an old story, but a strong one. Aella---a stupid little name--represented the strength the girl wanted nothing more than to have. Too bad the name wasn’t hers. 

“Nova” was a pretty name too, although it lacked the depth “Aella” held. It was the little string connecting the girl to those beautiful stars she couldn’t help but adore. Too bad that name wasn’t hers either. 

Even so, the girl wore both “Aella” and “Nova” with a silly pride, the facades bringing her more happiness than the idea of the life she was assigned. 

The life she was expected to live was plain and terrible in her mind. College, most likely studying a major she truly didn’t care about. Then some nine-to-five job she only stayed at for the money, working until she hated her life. Maybe a relationship, one that’d give her hope after years of failed ones, where that  _ spark _ died out a year or two after marriage. Or maybe a child or two who would eventually come to hate her. It wasn’t anything close to what she wanted in life, but after a while, it became what she expected. 

Aella was the smart one. The one accepted into top notch academies. The one shooting for a PhD without any second thoughts about if she’d make it through the program or not. The one with the prospect of a job she’d actually care about. 

Nova was the creative one. She was the one with a future as a singer, as a dancer, an actress--whatever she wanted to be; she was good at it all. Nova was the friendly, cheery, confident type of girl who couldn’t help but impress. 

The girl was both Aella and Nova. Yet at the same time, she was neither. She was just a little girl, set on track to live a life she knew she would despise, putting on facade after facade to pass the time. 

She couldn’t live the life she was assigned. She needed more than that simplicity. That’s why she applied. She needed a chance to be one of  _ them _ . She needed to be Aella or Nova or any one of her facades. She needed to be  _ something _ . She wanted that beautiful fantasy of a life.

  
  


Skye got her letter first, despite having sent in her application last. The way her face lit up when she saw the pretty little pastel envelope in a pile of junk mail on the table--it was something the girl would never forget. 

Skye hadn’t even opened it before she began to celebrate. Cora had to open it for her, skimming through the seemingly endless lines of print before beaming, three words on her lips: “you got in.”

Cora’s came next, just a day after Skye’s. It was terrifying when the ever calm and collected Cora simply screamed, jumping up and down without a word of explanation for either of her friends. Grabbing their hands, Cora dragged them, pushing them towards her car. 

“What the hell is happening, Cora?” the girl asked, ducking her head in the hopes of not smacking it on the roof of the car as her friend shoved her in the passenger’s seat. 

“We’re getting nachos!” Cora exclaimed. “Taco Bell time!”

“Why are you this excited about nachos?” Skye laughed, smiling brightly as she slid into the back seat. “I mean I’m always up for Taco Bell, but why are freaking out like this?”

“‘Cause I can’t eat them anymore,” Cora explained, hopping behind the wheel. She turned to her friends, dangling an envelope identical to Skye’s between her fingers. “I got in.”

That night when the girl went home, she checked the mailbox. Her excitement deflated when she found it empty. And with each day that followed. Each day with a mailbox that lacked a certain pastel envelope, she found herself losing hope. By the seventh day, even those pretty little facades she’d always loved had began to make her stomach churn.

  
  


The girl laid on her bed, decorative throw pillows giving her a crick in the neck. Pale blue and grey melted together, somehow mixing perfectly with the sweet scent of her bedroom. 

She wasn’t quite sure what the scent really was--some cross between citrus and a strong sweetness. Maybe oranges? Lemon candy? It didn’t matter much, but the scent clung to her, leaving her curious.

For some reason, her window was open. The cold January air surged in, attacking the girls inside the house. Skye shivered, prompting Cora to close the window. It snapped shut with a thud, cutting off the girl’s endless supply of numbing cold. She groaned, rolling over in her bed to watch the glistening snowflakes fall from the grey sky.

Cora and Skye were talking. Maybe to her, but, to be honest, she couldn’t tell. Everything was garbled; her head swarmed with disappointment and guilt. 

_ They got in. You should be proud of them, not just suking because you didn’t. What kind of friend are you? _

“Aella,” Skye said, her soft voice raised slightly. “Are you okay?”

The girl hated that question. If someone had to ask, the person was obviously  _ not  _ okay. Still, the girl shot her friend a smile and nodded, turning back towards her friends to pretend as if she was active in their conversation. 

“It’s not the end of the world that you didn’t get in,” Cora offered, wincing at how heartless her words sounded the moment they left her lips. “I mean, you could always apply to UIS like you’ve been saying. I’m sure you’d get in.”

“Then we could all live in Seoul together!” Skye continued doing her best to be optimistic. “I mean even when you applied to BubbleGum you said you didn’t care much about it. You can live an even better life than you would have as Nova now.” That last bit was a lie. They could all tell.

The girl nodded, appreciating her friend’s help, even if all three knew that Skye’s words were doing more harm than good. A stagnant silence hung in the air for a moment, gears clicking in their heads. 

“You’ve always wanted it,” Skye realized. “You just pretended like you didn’t just in case something like this happened.”

“Who doesn’t want to be a star?” the girl sighed. She let out a quick scream in her pillow before sitting up. “I’m sorry. I’m happy for you guys--I really am. I feel terrible for acting like this, but… I really don’t have a good excuse do I?”

“Ae?” a small voice called, accompanied by a soft knock at her door.

“It’s unlocked, Colton,” the girl called back, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. A young boy shuffled in the girl’s room, holding a stack of mail. “Mine?”

He nodded, handing over the stack to his sister. She huffed, flipping through the letters. Envelopes in university colors melted in with a letter from work and a stupid magazine she had told her mother a million times to unsubscribe to. 

It was almost hidden, buried between other options for her future. The moment her eye caught the pastel envelope, her heart stopped. The mail clattered to the ground. She held her letter in trembling hands. She knew what was inside, but she also knew it wasn’t an offer to live that special fantasy. Still, seeing “Nova” in the neat lettering made her heart flutter. 

Turning on her heel, she set the letter on her desk, unopened. Tears burned her eyes, but the girl blinked them away. Disappointment sagged on her petite frame. Biting hard, she split her lip, metallic blood combining sickeningly with her mint gum, the sudden pain startling her. 

“Why haven’t you opened the letter?” Cora asked cautiously, sensing her friend’s fragile state of mind. 

“I don’t need to read it to know I didn’t get in,” she huffed, leaning over her vanity mirror and running a sharp nail under her eye to clean up her eyeliner. “First to apply and last to get a letter--it doesn’t make sense. I’ve never been as good as you two at things like that. My singing, my dancing, even my rapping--none of it holds a candle to you. I never really had a shot at being an idol. Like I’ve always said, Nova could only ever be a fantasy.” The girl rambled, her strong front shattering quick. “I mean maybe UIS is a good idea for me. I’ll get a job in Seoul and work until the next application time.”

“Dude,” Cora interrupted, or rather tried to. The younger girl continued with her nervous rambling. “Dude,” Cora pressed. “DUDE!” she shouted, finally snapping the girl from her thoughts. “You got in! We all got in!”

“No way,” the girl breathed, snatching the opened letter from her friends hand. Her eyes quickly scanned the lines of print again and again, not believing what they saw. “I got in!”

The girl let out a gleeful shout; a smile broke across her face. She took Skye by her hands, the two twirling around her room. Cora soon joined in, the girls too caught up in their celebration to focus on anything else. 

Little shouts of “we got in” and “we’re going to be idols” soon changed to a chant-like repetition of their new names: Cora, Nova, Skye.

“We’re going to Seoul,” Nova giggled collapsing back onto her bed, dragging her friends with her. “Oh my god, I actually got in. We’re all going to be BubbleGum idols.”

Tears welled up in the girls eyes once more, spilling over just as quickly as they appeared. Curling into Skye, she let herself cry. Happiness built up in her chest, almost suffocating her. This was a chance for a future she actually wanted. 

A sudden pang of anxiety tore through her. She couldn’t let herself screw this up.

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I genuinely believe the only people reading this are Katheryn and Nat, but I mean, I'm gnna keep posting cause why the hell not!

The giggling girl was practically vibrating as she flipped open her laptop. A nervous excitement built in her chest, a feeling she was starting to grow used to. Humming, she clicked around, letting a website load before choosing the  _ Invites _ tab and waiting. 

Nearly a week had passed since Nova had gotten her letter, five days since her first conversation with her new manager. It was a bit of a mess, if she was allowed to be honest, but she loved her new path all the same. 

BubbleGum was a newer company, run by a woman who seemed to know what she was doing, or at least that’s what the girl told herself to keep calm. The practices of the company were quite odd, she quickly found, leaving her with an unnerving uncertainty.

Neither her nor Cora nor Skye were moving to Seoul until June. Surprisingly, the company insisted on it, allowing the girls to finish their high school degrees before they moved.

And that wasn’t even the weirdest thing. The mentors were. 

Even after years of being a K-Pop fan and years of looking into the trainee days of her favorite idols, Nova had never heard of this system. Still, she was perfectly content with having mentors--people who could relate to the struggles that were sure to come. 

Just like with the letters, she was the last one of her group to meet her mentors. A few days earlier, Skye joined the chatroom with her’s. She had learned a few pieces about her three mentors--their ages, their roles, simple things. And she had given them simple things about herself, preserving the anonymity she knew she’d need once her career finally took off. By the end of the day, she went to her members with a giddy smile on her face, going on and on about the kindness of her mentors and how the second youngest was--in her words-- “the subbiest sub to have ever subbed.”

Cora connected with her’s mere hours after Skye did. Her conversation was a bit more lighthearted than their youngest member’s, seeing that her laid-back attitude didn’t put as much pressure on keeping those  _ things  _ quiet. By the time the first of them had to sign out of the chatroom, she had already made close friends with one, while still managing to turn the two others into Cora Supporters. 

Nova had a lot to live up to.

Her laptop beeped, making her jump. She clicked the “accept” button excitedly, watching a new page load on her screen. It was time to meet her new mentors. 

  
  


**“Meet the New Girl”**

**11 January, 2019**

 

**Actor:** What is this?

**Rapper:** A group chat.

**Actor:** For what? We already have one...more than one, actually.

Hi  **>**

Are you my mentors?  **>**

**Actor:** Oh...is that the new girl? The rookie?

**Dancer:** I swear to god, you’re an idiot.

**Dancer:** Of course she is. Why else would she be here?

**Actor:** You don’t have to be mean...

**Vocalist:** Stop fighting.

I am the rookie  **>**

Nova  **>**

Wait...Are there four of you? I thought I was supposed to get three?  **>**

**Dancer:** Well, I guess they just threw in an extra

**Actor:** He’s lying.

**Actor:** The two of us fought over who would get to work with the trainee until our company let both of us

Really?  **>**

I feel so flattered!  **>**

I hope I won’t let you down!  **>**

**Vocalist:** I’m sure you won’t. From what our company told us, you’re pretty good at what you do. 

**Rapper:** Want to do introductions?

**Rapper:** Since we’re going to be working together a lot, it might be a good idea. 

  
  


Nova’s stomach jumped into her chest, questions swarming her head. Her heart began to pound in her ears, even if she was safe and sound in her own bed. Her hands hovered over the computer keys, unsure what to type. 

_ How much am I allowed to tell them? How much do they already know? Will they trust me if I don’t tell them much? Will they turn against me if I tell them too much? How much information do I need from them? How do I even do this? _

_ Who am I? _

_ Who is Nova? _

  
  


I mean, it’ll be hard with the anonymity I’m supposed to keep but sure  **>**

I’m Nova. My group’s name is Maisha. I’m seventeen and the leader. I do a little bit of everything (singing, dancing, rapping), but I wouldn’t say I’m amazing at any of that. I speak three languages fluently and I’m learning a couple more, so I’ll be a multilingual idol if I ever get to that stage. I guess that’s the good stuff…  **>**

**Rapper:** No names?

My name is Nova?  **>**

**Rapper:** I meant real names

Probably not then ㅋㅋㅋ  **>**

Do I at least get to know your stage names since you know mine  **>**

**Actor:** But that would ruin the surprise ㅠㅠ

Hm...I’m sure you’re right, even if that is a bit cocky  **>**

Damn, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to refer to you as “Vocalist”, “Actor”, “Dancer”, and “Rapper” all the time  **>**

Could you at least explain those names?  **>**

**Actor:** I’m an actor

**Vocalist:** I’m a vocalist

**Dancer:** I’m a dancer

**Rapper:** I’m a rapper

REALLY???  **>**

I had no idea! Wow!  **>**

Thank you for such an in depth explanation!  **>**

**Vocalist:** Sorry ㅋㅋㅋ

**Actor:** Simplest version: we’re apart of the same idol group. Dancer and I specialize in...well...dance. Rapper specializes in rap and vocalist is a vocalist. 

If you’re a dancer, why are you “actor”? ** >**

**Actor:** Dancer already took the title

**Dancer:** And he’s been trying to only subtly miss acting, but he’s doing a very bad job at that. 

**Actor:** Could you please stop?

**Vocalist:** Could you two please stop fighting?

**Rapper:** Anyway, our company chose a little bit of everything to give you a variety. 

That’s so cool!  **>** **  
** Um…  **>** **  
** Sorry to be weird, but what is the point of this?  **>** **  
** I’m not moving to Seoul until June  **>**

**Vocalist:** Oh yeah!

**Vocalist:** You’re studying in America, right?

Yeah  **>**

**Vocalist:** How good is your English

I’m fluent  **> **

**Vocalist:** That’ll help you out a lot when you start to get international fans

Do you speak English?  **>**

**Vocalist:** Yeah...It might still be better than my Korean

**Rapper:** I speak it too, although my Korean is better

**Dancer:** Me too.

So we can just talk in English if we wanted to?  **>**

**Dancer:** I like that idea

**Actor:** Did you forget that I can’t speak English or that I was here in general?

**Dancer:** Neither.

**Rapper:** Be nice, hyung

Hyung?  **>**

You’re a guy?  **>**

**Dancer:** Yeah?

**Vocalist:** We all are

I’m a girl…  **>**

**Actor:** So?

Guys are going to show me the ropes of being in a girl group?  **>**

**Dancer:** Guess so

**Rapper:** I guess someone didn’t think this through...

Apparently not  **>**

This’ll be interesting  **>**

**Rapper:** Yeah it will

**Actor:** We’re here to make sure you get through it though

**Vocalist:** Yeah! Your very own mandatory friends!

That’s such a nice way to put it  **>**

**Dancer:** ㅋㅋㅋ yeah it is

**Actor:** So what are you?

**Actor:** Position wise, I mean.

Leader  **>**

Although I do a bit of everything **>**

**Vocalist:** Well...You get to learn from someone in every role, but a leader.

  
  


Nova snorted at her computer. Of course there wasn’t a leader. They weren’t even in a girl grup. After learning that, why would she even think the people at BubbleGum would try to find her a leader to learn under.

Still, her mentors seemed nice, at least from the six or so minutes since she’d met them. Even if they weren’t a girl group, she was grateful to have them. Nova had always heard the trainee period of an idol was terribly difficult, but she figured having mentors to help her out would probably do a world of good. 

She was determined to do this, to get through her trainee period and debut. She could do it...right?

Her computer let out another soft beep, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

  
  


**Vocalist:** I’m not going to lie. We’ve never done anything like this.

**Dancer:** And it’s been a couple years since we were trainees too.

**Vocalist:** But we’re going to help you out in every way possible.  

**Rapper:** We made our way to where we are, even if it was a pain at times.

**Rapper:** Hopefully we can help you do the same.

**Actor:** What they mean to say is we’re going to go because it’s late and practice kicked our asses...

**Vocalist:** But we really want you to know that we’re supportive and to clarify that we really want to help!

ㅋㅋㅋ  **>**

Go to bed! Sleep is important!  **>**

I’m late for work anyway  **>**

And I guess we can just do the introductions tomorrow, since you managed to weasel your way out of them tonight.  **>**

**Actor:** We weren’t trying to do that!

**Actor:** We just got side tracked!

ㅋㅋㅋ Just go to bed  **>**

Goodnight!  **>**

And thank you so much for agreeing to mentor me!  **>**


	4. Chapter Three

When the Skype call came in, Nova nearly fell out of her bed. Rushing around her room, she changed her clothing from beat up Deadpool pajamas, that just so happened to be the most comfortable thing ever, in the girls opinion, to the nearest day-time outfit. Sadly, it happened to be a sundress, but in that moment Nova decided she’d rather have her mentors wonder why she was wearing a sundress in February than pajamas in the middle of the day. 

She pulled part of her long, mahogany hair back with a clip, letting the rest fall down over her shoulders in waves. With shaking hands, she yanked the nearest mask off its display, knocking over two others in the process. She placed them back in their places with gentle hands, wrapping the ribbons around the sides of their stands. Sunlight filtering in from her window glinted off their smooth surfaces. For a moment, she was the soft being she normally was, her masks always able to calm her. Then her anxious tremble came back, just as it always did. 

The girl had assumed her mentor was joking when he offered up a Skype call. It was almost one in the afternoon where she was, meaning it was two in the morning for him. Still, Rapper insisted, wanting to see what he was working with, even if they had developed a quick bond over the month since they began talking. 

His interest was childish and almost endearing. Out of all of her mentors, he was quite possibly the most engrossed by her, not just as an idol, but as a person, making her want just a tiny bit more to make a good impression. 

The girl leaned over her computer, pressing the mask to her face, hoping the seals set in time. She rushed to the other side of her bedroom, running a lip gloss wand over her winter-chapped lips, hoping it’d make her look even the tiniest bit better. 

Nova was terrified, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself. So much of her life rested on first impressions and what four men thought of her. Now, out of nowhere, she was being thrown into those introductions. The time to prepare she always assumed she’d have was nonexistent. 

_ What if they don’t think I’m pretty enough? What if the mask creeps them out? What if they don’t like my voice? _

So many questions, so many ‘ _ what ifs _ ’. It was driving her into a crazed panic. She clamped her hands together, trying to stop their trembling. That stupid nervous excitement began to suffocate her again.

She clicked the little green button in the corner of the screen.Then the call connected and for a moment, Nova genuinely thought her heart had stopped. 

The screen was black. Confused, the girl fiddled with her mouse, wondering why it said connected, but her mentor was nowhere to be seen. She sat on her bed before leaning forward, her hair falling over the intricate mask she wore as she examined her computer. 

It beeped, startling her. That was supposed to mean another person had joined the call, but the screen was still pitch black, excluding the tiny corner she was in. 

“Why are you in a dress?” a voice asked, connecting the puzzle pieces in her head.  _ Their cameras are off _ . “Isn’t it snowing where you are?”

His voice was high, even with the comfortable tone he spoke in. A lilt graced his words, sounding familiar, but just barely, so that she couldn’t figure out where his accent was from. 

“Are you not going to ask about the mask?” another voice inquired with a soft chuckle. His voice was deeper, more soothing, but held the same type of lilt as the first. “I figured that would be more eye-opening than a dress.”

The computer emitted a soft ding as color rose to the girl’s cheeks. She fiddled with the ribbon mask dangling from the back of her mask, unsure how to explain. 

“You know asking things like that can be considered rude,” the first voice shot back. “I happen to not be a rude person, unlike you.”

“Oh dear god, please shut up.”

“Don’t fight,” a third voice interrupted before the first could make a retort. “Sorry, Nova,” he continued. “They don’t usually fight. Only around you, actually, if you take away a bit of teasing. I don’t know what’s up with them..”

Nova nodded, shooting him a smile, even though his words went completely unheard.. His voice struck a more familiar cord than the first two, surprising her. A soft, prideful feeling rose in her chest, replacing the anxiety that was nearly suffocating her a few moments before. 

“You’re an American,” she noted with a tiny giggle. On the other side of the screen, the third voice made a choking sound. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, letting out a few muffled coughs. “You just caught me off guard. How did you know?”

“Accent,” she answered simply. “Most Koreans can’t say “Nova,” so it comes out as “Noba,” plus you have a soft accent when just talking. It’s pretty cute.” She paused for a moment as her computer beeped again. “I’m guessing you’re Vocalist?” she asked the third voice. “And the first two,” she blew a lock of hair out of her face with a soft huff, “I can’t tell which mentor they are, but are they...Chinese? They’re not Korean, I can tell you that for sure.”

“Why are you wearing that mask?” the second voice questioned out of nowhere. “You avoided that question earlier.”

“And you’re avoiding mine now.”

She wrung her hands nervously in her lap. For her, this conversation was a minefield. These men controlled her life, the possible-idol part at the very least. If she acted one way, she’d be written off as cold, but at the same time, her normal actions could be considered rude. 

“Yeah, we’re Chinese,” the first voice answered, earning a whine of protest from the second. “I’m Dancer, he’s Actor, if you think you can recognize us from our voices.”

“I mean, she did figure out where you’re from based off of your accents after saying, what, two sentences?” a fourth voice asked. “I have faith she’ll eventually be able to tell them apart.” 

_ Rapper _ . It made sense that he’d have a nice voice, but this was not what she was expecting. It wasn’t a toe curling low tone like some of the rappers she enjoyed listening to, but wasn’t nearly as high as Dancer and Vocalist, just the perfect balance in the middle. He lacked an accent, unlike her other mentors, but his voice was somewhat adorable nonetheless. 

“I like your voices,” she said suddenly, shocking herself and her mentors. “I mean,” she struggled to find words. “They’re pretty. Your voices are nice.”

“Kind of have to be,” Vocalist laughed, “since we’re idols and all.” 

Nova smiled, feeling her mask shift slightly on her skin. She grimaced, pressing it closer to her skin, praying it didn’t slide off.  _ I really need to readjust how I attach it. _

“Your mask is--”

“Creepy?” she asked, already knowing that was the normal reaction to the masterpiece of a mask on her face. “I try to make them at least semi-cool looking, but I do understand they can be quite creepy, especially the eyes.”

The idol-to-be was proud of the mask, she wasn’t going to lie, but at the same time, she understood how unnerving it could be. The one she was wearing was a less extreme example, but took her well over twice as long to make. 

Thick, white lace was formed to her face in a diagonal pattern, the bottom covering her right cheek, crossing over the bridge of her nose, and ending just below her left eye. Little patches of pale skin poked through the lace’s pattern.

Where the eyepieces were meant to be, were what looked like mirrors, returning anyone’s gaze with their own eyes. She felt it was symbolic and voiced the poetry behind the anonymity she’d get as an idol whenever she got the chance. But deep down, she knew why she really wore it. 

“It looks cool,” her mentor assured. “I like it. Just why do you have to wear it?”

“I don’t fit the traditional Korean beauty standards most female idols uphold,” she recited. Having seen that on her profile each time she opened it, it was engraved in her brain.  _ And I never will _ , she finished in her head. 

“So your company is making you wear a mask?” Actor asked. “That’s a stupid thing to make you do.”

“Your company is making me do it too,” she reminded him with a nervous, forced smile. “I’m partially owned by whatever company owns you until they decide they don’t want you to be my mentors anymore.”

“I don’t like that word,” Dancer sighed. “ _ Owns  _ is just a terrible way to put it. I mean we’re human beings.”

“Doesn’t change the fact they  _ do _ own us.”

  
  


Conversations with her mentors were often like that, Nova soon found. Silly little conversations followed by slightly darker ones, then back to the playful ones. Their calls were constantly full of laughter and jokes.

She was comfortable with her mentors. By the end of the second month since she’d met them, her mentors felt like friends she had known for years. She told them almost everything about her life, from her siblings and parents to life at school. In return, she learned about them.

The girl could happily listen to them for hours on end, and, on more than one occasion, she did. She learned their likes and dislikes, how their group worked and how being an idol had altered their family life. Nova loved the immediate trust that grew between their little group, especially since they all knew one little slip up could end the system that allowed her to be mentored. 

Thousands of warnings were forced upon her, whether it be in a random text or in the middle of a call, usually a dozen or so a day. Some were funny, others not so much. But she scribbled down each piece in a notebook, treating her mentors words like gospel. 

By the end of March, after almost two months of Skyping her mentors, she had filled the entire notebook with their little bits of information. Yes, time zones were quite possibly the biggest pain in the ass she had to deal with during her “pre-trainee” period, but through the sacrifice of one person’s or another’s sleep, she was able to Skype her mentors on a nearly daily basis.

It was by far her favorite part of her day, far more enjoyable than her awkward conversations with Ms. Park, a younger, fairly nice woman who seemed to have no clue how to be a manager. 

Usually, it was fine, if  a bit tense. The girl didn’t mind the random, “I got to go” endings to calls or the complete disregard for time zones. The woman was nice and she was giving the girl the chance to  _ be  _ Nova. For her, that was irreplaceable.

Except at 3:30 in the morning, right after she had fallen asleep. When the shrill tones rung out in her silent bedroom, she groaned. Half tempted to throw her phone across the room, she checked the display.

_ Park Ye Seul _ , she read. With a groan, she answered the call. “Hello?” she croaked, not caring that her tiredness seeped into her voice. “Is everything okay Ye Seul-ssi?”

Her manager said nothing, just let out a weird gurgling noise. The girl looked at her phone in confusion. Quickly she pressed the phone back to her ear, an eerie giggle coming from the opposite end, concerning the girl.

“Ye Seul-ssi?” Nova asked again.

“I have a surprise for you,” the woman responded, her excitement suddenly apparent. 


	5. Chapter Four

Each of the three girls were overflowing with energy, dancing around and scream-singing into hair brushes they used as microphones. The music was loud, hopping from language to language with each passing song. 

The room reeked of papaya peel-off masks and artificial cheese powder and the early spring air that drifted in from the wide open windows. 

It was almost a regular Friday night. Except it wasn’t Friday. Nor was it night time. 

Nova flopped back on her bed, mid-morning sun shining on her face as she cringed, the salty-sour taste in her mouth from the last of their sleepover snacks finally getting to her. The music stopped abruptly and Cora sang a particularly beautiful high note that was way out of her vocal range. 

Skye giggled, falling on the bed beside Nova, entangling their fingers as they stared up at the ceiling.

Excitement coursed through their veins, setting them on edge. This, although their impromptu, terribly performed concerts were a fairly regular occurrence, was the best way to calm down, even if the moment they stopped the hyper excitement would be back.

Out of nowhere, Skye jumped back up, singing along to a song Nova definitely knew, but for some reason, she couldn’t remember the title. Instead of worrying, she popped up, taking the brush from Cora and singing along with their youngest friend before they all collapsed into giggles once more. 

They laughed until their voices went hoarse and their stomachs ached. Tears dried on their cheeks, smiles plastered to their faces, they rolled on Nova’s bed, almost falling off once or twice.

“We really need to finish up,” Cora sighed once she could breathe again, a hand still resting on her stomach. “Aren’t your parents dropping us off at noon?”

“Yeah,” Nova sighed, pulling herself up. “We should probably--” On the other side of the room, her computer let out a shrill ring. “Mentors!”

Falling face first off the bed, she dove towards her laptop. She groaned into the floor, her friends moving carefully past the girl’s fallen body and over to her desk. 

With a devious smirk on her pink-painted lips, Skye clicked the  _ accept  _ button on Nova’s laptop, letting the Skype call load. Without a second thought, she dipped down the computer screen, giving those on the other end a beautiful glimpse into the daily life of her klutzy friend.

“Hey, guys,” Nova said, scrambling to her feet, struggling to make herself look presentable. 

Her long hair was pulled back in a kitten ear headband, hiding it from their view. A thick reddish goop covered her face. Sunglasses--which were completely unnecessary at that time of day, or at any time of day, seeing that they were indoors--rested on her nose.

“What are you doing?” Vocalist laughed, bringing a smile to the girl’s lips. “You look hilarious.”

“I think Nova looks  _ fabulous _ ,” Dancer shot at his member, humor in his voice. “But aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Break started a couple days early for us,” Nova explained, turning down the music in the background, just for Skye to turn is back up.

“It’s B.A.P come on,” the younger whined.

“Well you didn’t let me listen to my music,” the other girl said, sticking her tongue out like a child.”

“Any fun plans for break?” Rapper asked. 

“Yeah,” Nova chirped, giving no further response. The song changed, prompting the girl to stick a pencil at Skye like a weapon. “Change it and I might stab you.”

Much to the horror of her friend’s mentors, Skye giggled, moving closer to the controls on the speaker. Nova held up the pencil one more time in warning, but Cora snatched it out of her hand, earning a whine.

“Chill,” the youngest laughed, watching the eldest slide the pencil back in it’s holder on the desk. “I’m not gonna change it. This song’s good.”

“Woo!” Nova cheered, sarcasm sharp on her tone. “Little Miss. Skye actually likes a Seventeen song.”

“You make me sound like I hate them.” The girl let out a cross between a huff and a laugh, making her friend’s angry manner fade completely.

“Seventeen?” Actor asked. “Like the K-Pop group or is there one in America too.”

“K-Pop,” his mentee answered with a quite random, proud smile. “Oof, I would kill to meet them.”

“Her goal in life is to hug them all,” Skye put in.

“No it isn’t,” the other protested. 

“Are you sure?” 

Silence hung in the air for a moment, just to be cut off by another series of infectious giggles the next. Nova choked on her words, struggling to get them out before deciding it was best to just wait until they calmed down.

“You’re very giggly,” Vocalist noted. “But  _ is it  _ your life’s goal to hug the members of a K-Pop group?”

“Well,” she sighed, “it would be nice, but I think my life’s goal now is something around being an artist or an idol--just having my name remembered.  _ But _ , if I get any sort of chance, hell yeah, I’ll take it. They’re musical gods--”

“Oh no,” Skye huffed. “Here we go again.”

“Have you heard my boy Boo?” Cora asked. “‘Cause if not, I need to introduce you to the magic that is Boo Seungkwan’s voice.”

“Or his booty,” another girl chirped. “What?” the youngest asked, holding her hands up in surrender. “I mean I might not like his voice, but his butt isn’t bad. I mean it’s not like JiBooty, but it is Vernon’s favorite part.”

“Oh my goss,” Nova said, feigning offence. “Your mistake?”

“Kimbap Kidding?”

“You two are messes,” Skye said with a laugh.

“So you guys are fans of Seventeen,” Rapper asked, his tone carrying a caution the his mentee was unfamiliar with. 

“Yeah--well, Cora and I are at least. Skye isn’t a huge fan, but she likes a couple songs and Woozi.” 

“I don’t  _ only  _ like Woozi,” Skye interrupted. “I mean, I think I like most of them. Just not--”  A loud shout in the background cut the girl’s words off. 

“Okay, Mom!” Nova suddenly shouted. “I still have to shower, but everything should be fine.” The girl turned to her friends. “We need to finish getting ready.”

“Doing something fun to start break?” Vocalist asked.

“Well, today we’ll be on a plane, so not much fun, but after that, it should be pretty cool,” she answered, rushing to collect a towel and her change of clothes. 

“That sounds like fun--not the plane part, but the trip part,” another mentor commented. “Where are you going?”

“To see you,” she said, smirking. “See you at...I think I’m getting in at 5:30 your time? Gotta go finish getting ready. Bye-bye boys.”


	6. Chapter Five

The bustling airport felt oddly comfortable for Nova, confusing her. It was yet another item she could slap on to her list of things she wished she understood, right under why she smelled like lemon candy. 

The leather baggage and the reek of people who had yet to shower in god knows how long gave her a headache. The shoving from side to side as she struggled her way from her gate to the airport’s exit was annoying to say the least. Still, she found comfort in the tiny little shops full of overpriced goods and the garbled announcements on the loudspeakers no one could actually understand. 

Her legs wobbled with each step she took, taking her attention from the world around her. After fourteen plus hours on a plane, heels were quite possibly the worst idea she’d caved in on in a  _ very  _ long time.

When they had stepped off the plane, already nearly a half-hour ago,  Nova found herself in a trance-like state. After years of dreaming of a  _ visit _ to Korea, she was finally there. Not just to spend a week then go back to a mundane life in America, but to see the place where she’d soon live.

Skye had made quick work of snapping her out of the little world she was in, grabbing both Nova and Cora’s hands and dragging them to the nearest restroom. The youngest shoved her friends into stalls, throwing articles of clothing at them and muttering “hurry up” under her breath.

Nova quickly stepped out of the bathroom stall. Her yoga pants and hoodie were gone, just like the sleepy, dazed aura that had hung off her not five minutes before. A fitted white button down was tucked into a silky pink skirt, clinging to her petite frame in such a way where it seemed cute rather than sexy.

After taking a pair of balled up socks from her friend, Nova hopped around on one foot, sliding on the lacy white thigh highs before sliding her foot back in her sneaker. She opened her mouth, but Skye cut her off. 

“There’s heels in the bag next to the sink,” she had informed the girl, ducking into the stall she had just left. “The blue ones are yours,” she finished, slamming the door in the girl’s face.

Nova let out a soft sigh, making her way to the sinks and pulling the shoes from Skye’s backpack. They were cute--pastel blue pumps with a long, thin heel that worried the girl more than anything. Reluctantly, she pulled off her converse, saying goodbye to relative comfort for her poor feet, and slipped into the heels. 

“You look cute,” Cora noted, making her way towards the sink. “She really thought about you when picking out these outfits. It’s really your style.”

Cora’s clothing was a striking difference compared to Nova’s. Skye’s too, the girl realized when the youngest stepped out of the stall. While she was pastel head to toe, Skye wore much darker colors and Cora stuck to more flamboyant, bright clothes. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, examining the way their clothing matched their personalities. 

“We’re meeting up with them at 5:30?” Cora asked, leaning over the sink and applying on the sealant before holding her mask to her face, waiting for it to dry.

Nova hummed in response, moving to do the same, her mask in one hand, the glue in the other. For a moment she examined herself in the mirror, letting herself wonder why, even if for only a moment, she was stuck in the endless battle against something as stupid as beauty ideals. 

Her eyelashes were long and tangled. Her lips were full and permanently tinted a dark pink. The girl’s nose was sharp and slightly upturned. Freshly dyed, cotton-candy colored locks cascaded off her shoulders and down her back. Her body fell just on the line between petite and curvy, letting her use either to her advantage if she wore the right clothes. 

She wasn’t jaw dropping, that she knew for sure, but she wasn’t quite  _ hideous _ . 

But that wasn’t her decision. 

Nova applied the seal to the inside of her mask, waving it around a few times before pressing it tightly to her face, waiting for it to set. This one was white, designs the same shade as her skirt sprawling across its surface.

“You made this?” she asked Skye, who simply nodded before putting on her own mask. “Thanks, babe.” The younger just shrugged. “No really, I mean it,” she continued. “Thank you for everything.”

The idol-to-be took one last nervous look in the mirror before clamping together her shaking hands and stepping out into the busy bustle of the airport, each step in those goddamn heels making her more and more nervous.

She made it ten minutes, a new record for her, before she fell. The edges of her heels caught on one another and the next moment her cheek was against the cold tile, elbows propped up, and probably scraped, beneath her. As if it was common practice, Nova peeled herself off the floor, brushed herself off, and continued walking, giving each step a tiny bit more caution.

Her friends had left her a few minutes prior, each of them accidentally agreeing with their mentors to meeting spots they had no clue how to find. After walking around for another five minutes, the girl accepted her defeat, pulling out her phone to text one of them. 

  
  


**“Nova in Korea”**

**5 April, 2018**

 

Where are you?  **>**

I’m a little bit lost…  **>**

**Actor:** We’re in the airport.

I meant where in the airport???  **>**

**Actor:** Oh

**Actor:** Yeah...I have no clue

  
  


Nova let out a little huff. The girl bumped into a large man in front of her, snapping her eyes away from her phone just in time to get glared at. Bowing her head, she quickly apologized, her eyes low as he scolded her.

  
  


Is there anything around you that stands out?  **>**

I kind of want to find you before I get scolded again…  **>**

**Vocalist:** Bump into someone?

Of course (:  **>**

  
  


Somewhere nearby a young girl let out a shrill scream followed by happy shouts and laughter. Stifling a laugh, Nova continued walking to no place in particular, texting her mentors as she went.

_ She must’ve recognized her mentors, _ she thought, having recognized the voice.  _ Good luck, babe. _

  
  


**Actor:** Okay I have a landmark for you.

**Actor:** We’re near the screaming girl.

That’s my friend  **>**

**Actor:** ...Really?

Yeah, Skye  **>**

**Vocalist:** Are you with her?

**Rapper:** Yeah...why did she scream?

**Vocalist:** Dude, I was asking to see if our girl could find her easier, not to see why the other one is screaming...

Probably recognized her mentors  **>**

And no, I’m not  **>**

**Dancer:** This was a mess of an idea...Why did we ever think you’d be able to find us in an airport you’ve never been to?

I was just about to ask you the same thing  **>**

**Actor:** What color are you wearing?

Pink and white, although it’s kinda my mask that gives me away  **>**

Would it just be easier if I catch a cab and meet you someplace? **>**

I’m really just lost…  **>**

  
  


Suddenly, Nova’s feet were off the ground, arms tight around her waist. A bitter scream ripped itself from the girl’s lungs as he spun her around, panic threatening to suffocate her. Her blood ran cold as he abruptly stopped, setting her back down with a meek “sorry.”

She whipped around, faltering the moment she took in the man before her. Her stomach dropped as the last four months of her life finally came into focus.

Her eyes traced his defined cupid’s bow she’d almost always seen contorted in a cocky smirk. Then the sharp angle of his jawline and down to his adam’s apple. His skin was annoyingly flawless, free of blemishes and perfectly tanned. Pale purple locks fell into his eyes. He was gorgeous; it was as plain and simple as that.

She glanced into his nervous brown eyes as her jaw hung open slightly.

“You’re,” she stuttered, “You’re Wen Junhui.” Tears began to form in her eyes as she tried to force herself to look away. She hung her head as they collected behind her mask. “You’re Wen Junhui,” she hiccupped. “You’re Wen Junhui.”

“What’s wrong, Nova?” Junhui asked, holding her by the shoulders, tilting her chin up to make her look him in the eye. “Are you upset that it’s me?” he added a moment later in a timid voice.

“No!” Nova exclaimed, reaching forward and burying her head in his chest. “I have to be the luckiest girl in the world,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “My _ Actor  _ is freaking Wen Junhui.” Nova slowly lifted her head to look at him. “Oh my god, you’re actually here.”

A smile lit up Jun’s face, making his mentee’s heart melt. He tousled his newly dyed pastel purple hair, earning a soft giggle from the girl beside her. The idol pulled the trainee in one more time, hugging her close to his chest.

Nova sighed happily, familiarizing herself with the way he felt, the way he smelled, the steady beat of his heart under his shirt. Oddly enough, it felt kind of like coming home to her, like she was meant to be there. 

Another set of arms snaked their way around her waist, making her jump a little bit. Her mentor paid it no mind, so she welcomed the hug. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips mere millimeters from her ear.

“So you’re our little Nova,” the voice finally said.

“And you’re my Dancer,” she sighed, recognizing his voice immediately. She drew in a sudden sharp breath, the little puzzle pieces that had been so confusing no twenty four hours before clicking together. “Oh my god, you’re Xu Minghao,” she giggled into Jun’s chest.

“How’d you know?” he asked, letting go of the girl, allowing her to turn around and face him for the first time.

For a moment, there was no smile, just lips pursed together as he took his first good look at the girl. He was effortlessly stylish--or at least seemingly effortless--in his thin Gucci hoodie and ripped jeans. Wire rimmed glasses rested low on his nose, hooked on his adorned ears. His eyes were emphasised with a quick swipe of liner.

_ Oof _ .

Suddenly, he lit up, an almost embarrassed smile rising on his face as he laughed. Regret bit at her as she realized what she had said, but was quickly muted by the happiness in his voice as he thanked her, making sure “oof” was a compliment.

Before she gave herself a moment to second guess her actions, she leaned in, arms open wide and hugged him. He held her for just a moment, but his grip was tight, a bit protective, and probably the most comforting thing she had ever felt.

“Oh my god,” she repeated, having trouble finding any other words. “Oh my god, I might actually start crying.” The girl hiccuped, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth. “Okay, maybe I’m already crying.”

“Can I have a hug too?” another voice asked, earning a soft half-giggle from the girl. “Hey, Nova,” he sighed, hugging her.

Just as soon as her arms managed to wrap around him, he let go, holding her by her shoulders and looking her up and down. 

His features were light and endearing from the soft slope of his lips to the messy brown hair hanging in his face to the curve to his eyes she had always associated with him. He gave her a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way she had seen in one video or another a thousand times. 

_ My Vocalist is freaking Joshua Hong. _

“I can’t believe it’s actually you,” she breathed, looking up at the idol with an awe-struck smile, letting out a happy sigh as he hugged her.

Beside her, Jun poked Minghao’s shoulder, gesturing somewhere Nova couldn’t see. She attempted to cock her head, but her mentor’s grip on her wouldn’t let her. Out of nowhere, Joshua let go, pushing her back a bit. 

She stumbled for a short moment, blushing, before getting swept off her feet yet again. Strong arms picked her up, spinning her around just as Jun had a few minutes before. Giggles exploded out of her, her hands finding home at the small of his neck. 

As he set her down, he ducked his head in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her. 

Resting her shaking hands softly on his cheeks, she leaned back and looked at him through her tear-blurred lenses, her heart quickly climbing up her throat.

She wasn’t sure what to look at first, other than everything, that is. He was gorgeous, jaw dropping, show stopping, and a billion other things she couldn’t even put into coherent thoughts other than  _ so much better in real life _ .

He looked innocent, adorable, despite towering over the girl. The muscular frame she had felt not a moment before was hidden in oversized clothing, making him almost seem small. 

And his eyes--

She wasn’t sure how to describe them. There was no special shade she could identify or a food she could compare it to or any words she could use to get the idea across that she was unbelievably overwhelmed. 

Light passed and, for a moment, his eyes lit up like amber hovering over a flame. They were just warm, inviting, comforting. 

His thin lips were pursed. His eyes flicked  between the girl and the floor at their feet.  _ Nervous, but still gorgeous _ , she thought, simply in awe, not just from him, but from the three other idols she’d practically worshiped, all there for  _ her _ . 

Nova hiccupped and the nervous look on his face disappeared. His pursed lips turned into a gummy smile, his nose and eyes crinkling for a moment before looking at her, a humorous light glimmering.

Letting out a silent sob, she rested her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around him once more as he set his chin on the crown of her head, saying something in a soothing tone she couldn’t quite hear. 

Trying to calm herself, she took long deep breaths; he smelled clean, of soap and residual cologne. Not knowing what to do with that information, not knowing what to do with any piece of her situation, she simply continued to cry. 

“Are you okay?” he asked after a while, rubbing soft circles on the small of her back and melting her heart with each word. “I’d ask if you were disappointed, but you hug really tight.”

“You’re freaking Hansol Vernon Chwe,” she said, her voice trembling. 

“I’m freaking Hansol Vernon Chwe,” he chuckled.  

The girl let out a sad mix between a sob and a laugh. She dropped her arms, taking a small step back and moving to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Nova let out a defeated sigh when her hands met the thick material of her mask, realizing that she’d be stuck with the sticky wet of drying tears until she finally got the chance to take it off.

“I just can’t believe this,” she sighed happily, knowing  _ this  _ could mean any number of things: she was in Seoul, she was a trainee, she was with them, they were her mentors,  _ him _ . It was almost too much.


	7. Chapter Six

"How you feeling, Nova?" Joshua asked, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder as her breathing finally came to a steady lull. She still shook, just a little bit, but she smiled up at him, her energy returning with each passing moment. 

"Better," she chirped. "Happy." She let out a soft sigh, the embarrassment finally setting in. "Sorry about that. I can get emotional, but even I would have never anticipated a reaction like that."

That was a lie. She knew it the moment it left her lips. Her mentors, the men she had befriended over the course of the few months they had known each other, the men she had come to genuinely care about, even if she didn't know their identities--they were freaking Seventeen members. Of course she would have flipped out.

"Is it safe to say you were surprised?" Minghao asked, a teasing tone on his words, snapping the girl out of her daze. 

"Most definitely."

Beside her, Hansol slung the girl's backpack over his shoulder, taking her suitcases handle. She opened her mouth to protest, but the idol shook his head and offered her a smile. He led their small group towards the airport, the girl going back to the gawking she had always been so good at. 

She loved watching them move, she soon realized. Not in the same sense she had when they were dancing, but the simple gracefulness that seemed to cling to their movements and the confidence emanating off of them was beautiful. They were gorgeous, distracting. 

Turning her head away from her mentor, she looked ahead and walked into bench. A sudden sharp pain went up her leg, just below her knee. With a sigh, she straightened, brushed off her skirt before sprinting to catch up to her members, who seemed to have taken her habit of gawking.

The gracefulness of an idol. It was laughable. 

"Sorry," she chirped, the visible parts of her skin burning a bright red. "I'm a bit of a klutz. I promise my dancing isn't...this...bad? I mean it's not great, but I usually don't walk into things when I'm dancing."

"Do you have a special type of klutziness when you're dancing?" Jun laughed. 

"Yes, but that type ends with concussions and stitches, or at the very minimum, a quick visit to the hospital."

"What the hell do you dance to that ends you up in the hospital?"

"Boy Meets Evil--the intro song by BTS' J-Hope--got me three stitches in my head after doing a flip a bit too close to a table. Oh! And Clap. Smacked my head into a jewelry box. Got a concussion. Usually my head takes the brunt of things--I’ve gotten lots of bloody noses, my dear--but I’ve broken a finger, sprained my foot and my ankle, and gotten countless bruises.”

"How?" her mentor squeaked, making the girl laugh.   
"It's pretty easy," she said. "You just have to pay very little attention to your surroundings and be an okay dancer at your best."  
"It's going to be so much fun helping to train you," Minghao said, sarcasm dripping off his words. "Whatever," he sighed. "We'll make it work. Maybe we can put padding all over the practice room?" Suddenly he perked up. "We’ll get to see you dance soon, won't we?"  
Nova giggled, a nervous knot forming in her stomach. "Yeah, I guess you will."  
"Nervous?" Hansol-- _Vernon_ , she reminded herself--asked, giving her a knowing look, reminding her that not all that long ago the men before her were trainees themselves.   
She nodded, letting her exhilarated front fall for just a moment, showing them how tired she truly was. There was so much riding on a even that would last maybe twenty minutes. She was terrified. So much could go wrong and so much could break her down. Taking a deep breath, she clapped her hands together, giving them a beaming smile.   
"Want to meet me after my check in with BubbleGum and Pledis?" Suddenly it dawned on her.  Before ten minutes ago, she had no clue which company her mentors worked for, and in turn, she worked for. "I work for Pledis," she breathed. "Holy shit."  
Joshua laughed. "Yeah, it must be a lot to process." The girl nodded. "And we kinda wanted to go with you," he added, making the girl choke on air.   
"Why?" she gasped, after a short moment of coughing up a lung. "It's just a check in. There gonna have me sing a couple songs and dance a bit. It'll be boring."  
"Do you not want us to come?" Vernon asked, a touch of sadness in his voice.

"No," the girl answered without a moment's hesitation. "I don't." Her caution towards the men who held her career in their hands was completely gone, replaced by a bitter and sharp terror that tore at her stomach. "Please," she squeaked.

"Why?" the eldest asked, trying not to show how hurt he was, partially because he didn't know exactly why it was so...upsetting she didn't want him around. 

"I'm sorry," she huffed. "Formalities. I always forget." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I would prefer to go to this alone, Joshua oppa," she said, wringing her hands. 

"I don't care about formalities--I mean, you could drop them completely for all I care. I just wanted to know why you don't want us to go with you so badly."

The girl ran a nervous hand through her long, cotton-candy hair, the nerves constricting her throat and upsetting her stomach. She shuffled her feet, unable to look her mentors in the eye. 

  
  


The building was anything but what she expected it to be. Surprisingly clean white walls rose at least a dozen stories up, the setting sun turning them deep purple and a stunning hue of orange. She hadn't even made it through the doorway, but she swore she could almost smell the creativity wafting out of the entrance. 

She stared at the door, her small fingers wrapped around the handle as she did her best to calm her nerves. On the way there, she had melted. For a moment there was nothing in the world other than her and the magnificent city she was determined to start to explore before her week was up. But the moment the car had pulled up, her nerves were back, suffocating her in a thick fog of panic. 

And it didn’t help that Jun had managed to smack her in the face with a car door.

It was an accident of course, but it still ached, even after almost ten minutes of him fussing over her. But, keeping to her normal, hesitant self, she promised him it was okay over and over while watching pieces of chipped mask fall on the side of the street. 

“Hello, Miss. Nova,” a woman said with a smile, poking her head out the other door. “Long time no see.” She took her by the chin, tilting her head to either side and examining the deep crack across the surface of her mask. Thankfully she said nothing, only picking a broken chunk off her cheek. 

“Nice to see you again, Yeseul-ssi,” the idol-to-be responded with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting you to meet me here,” she added with a forced laugh. 

“Well, we have a lot to do, so I had to make sure I got to you right away.” She looked over the girl’s shoulder at her mentors, leaning up against a car awkwardly. “Are they coming?” Without waiting for an answer, the manager shouted, “come on, boys!” making the girl groan. 

Nova followed the woman through the building, taking folder after folder as they went. Her manager’s voice was a rambling mess and, for some reason, the girl could only pick up about half of what she was telling her. 

Check ins and photoshoots and possibly a bit of recording--it was an overwhelming list of places she needed to be and people she needed to meet. It was an overwhelming day in general, she realized with a laugh. 

“You can change in here,” her manager said, swinging open the door to an empty room. “When you’re done, you want to take a right, then go in the third door on your left. Got it?” The girl nodded. “Okay. I’m going to go talk to Jinyoung-ssi real quick. If you four want to meet us in about fifteen, and Nova in twenty?”

“Jinyoung-ssi? Kim Jinyoung?” Joshua asked, earning a quick nod from his trainee’s manager. “Why would you need  _ our  _ manager for  _ her _ check in?”

“Because he’s deciding if you’ll still be her mentors, silly,” the woman chirped, leaving the room and closing the door behind her as her words set in.

A stale silence hung in the air for a moment, each one of them handling the news in their own way. Nova sat down, staring at her trembling hands before holding her head. 

“I’m gonna vomit,” she mumbled into her hands. “Oh my god, I can’t do this.”

“Calm down,” Joshua cooedd. “Everything will be okay.”

“You don’t understand.” She was close to tears again, but the happy attitude they had grown to associate with her over the past few months was completely gone. “They’re making me take off my mask. That’s why I didn’t want you to go. And if your manager is here--I don’t think he knows about my-- _ why _ ?” Her voice cracked in a soft, devastated sound. “I’m going to lose you the same day I finally got you.” 

“Nova!” Minghao shouted, snapping her out of her rambling and shaking her shoulders. “Everything will be okay. Even if they do take us away, we’ll still be your friends. You’ll still have us. And they won’t take us away, because you’re going to go out there and kick ass. Okay?” The girl gave him a meek nod. “We’re going to leave so you can change. See you in a little bit.” 

With a lack of hesitation that shocked both of them, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just as soon as his lips were there, they were gone. The idol was already busy pushing his members out of the dressing room. 

“Good luck, Nov,” he said. “You’ll do great.”

  
  


A small looking girl was brought into the room behind the glass. Nova’s cheerful personality had shrunk even more, leaving a scared little girl in her place. Her head was hung low as she held a new mask to her face in place of the one Jun had broken. She walked into the middle of the room, brushing off non-existent dust from her black yoga pants and loose white tank top.

She looked around the room for a moment, looking for her manager or mentors, but finding nothing but speakers and a small table in the corner. Mirrors stretched from wall to wall, letting her examine each movement from a dozen angles. 

“It’s one way glass, just like her mask. She sees a mirror, we see her,” the boys’ manager explained. He held the button on a microphone and turned it on. “Introduce yourself. Then we’ll play your tracks.”

Nova nodded hesitantly. “Hello. My name is--”

“Get rid of the mask,” the manager ordered, cutting her off. “It creeps me out.”

“I’m sorry.” She bowed.

With hesitant hands the teen set the mask gently on the table, keeping her head low so her cotton-candy hair fell over her face. She returned to the middle of the room, pulling up her long, pastel locks before staring forward with worried, stoney blue eyes.

“Al...El...Ai--” the manager struggled to pronounce the word on his sheet, earning a small snicker from the girl. 

“It should be written in Hangul,” she hummed. “Right under the English version.”

“Just say your damn name,” he shot back. 

“Hello,” she said as she bowed. “My name is Ay-lah,” her tone was almost teasing. “Aella McKinley.”

 


	8. Chapter Seven

The check in was a blur. So much time focusing on her face, rather than the words that were still foreign on her tongue or the complicated steps teetering between graceful and clumsy. Her heart hammered in her chest as the songs switched, but she found herself seamlessly melting in to the next one and the next, going from a soft love song to a rap that made her want to bounce on her toes. 

She watched herself in the mirror, hating what she saw. Her body was too awkward. Her smile was too fake. Her motions were too rigid. She couldn’t tell if she was doing the dance right. 

To be completely honest, she couldn’t even tell you what songs she performed--not during or after the fact. Her voice was shaky, but the roar in her ears made the lyrics slip away. Her mind was too clouded by all the nervous questions. 

_ Why did she chose these songs? Why did she chose to do covers? How was she doing? What were they thinking? Why was she even there? _

After the fourth song, the music stopped. The girl stood there, breathing hard, waiting for someone to say something,  _ anything _ . Instead she was met with silence. After a few moments she bowed and walked out the door without a word. 

Nova, Aella, or whomever she was, broke into a sprint the moment she left the studio, rushing back to the dressing room down the hall. She shoved open the door before slamming it shut. She yanked off her clothing, breathing hard as harsh sobs tore themselves out of her chest. She clawed at her body, trying to deal with the self-hatred surging through her.

_ I failed. I ruined everything. I failed. _ The thoughts repeated themselves through her head like a broken record.

Eventually she stopped pacing, collapsing into a shaking heep on the couch. For a while she cried, having no clue what else to do. She let the anxiety, the disappointment eat away at her until she was left a hollow shell. She had screwed it up, lost her chance at becoming an idol less than six months after a true option appeared. 

The mundane life she was expected to live seemed so imminent again making her numb and nauseous. Slowly, she sat back up, reaching for her phone, which she had discarded before her audition. 

  
  


I messed up  **>**

I lost it all  **>**

I’m sorry  **>**

 

The girl set her phone back down, not wanting to see Cora and Skye’s answers, knowing they’d just break her further, even if they were only trying to help. 

With trembling movements, she redressed, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The adorable outfit that had given her so much confidence merely an hour earlier now felt as if it was mocking her, it’s brightness only darkening the disappointment in her heart.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her--for lack of a better phrase--pity party. Grumbling, she shouted “go away” before slumping back on her side. Slowly, the door creaked open, a young man popping his head in. The girl let out a loud groan, turning over on the couch and hiding her face in a pillow. 

“What do you need?” she croaked, voice hoarse. 

Weakly, she extended her arm, grabbing blindly at the mask closest to her. She quickly pressed it to her face, holding it there with one hand while clutching a pillow to her chest with the other. 

The girl had completely folded in on herself, her positive attitude nowhere to be found. Nova did her best, but the facade she had spent four months doing her best to build up was broken, shattered even. She forced a smile, even though tears still slipped out from behind her mask and down her neck. 

“You cry a lot, don’t you?” Jun asked, stating the obvious, having no clue how else to handle the situation at hand. 

“So what if I do,” she almost snapped, talking into the pillow. “It doesn’t matter since you won’t have to be dealing with me anymore.”

The idol cocked his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. “What?” he asked. “Who said that?” 

“ _ Hey, Aella,” _ Joshua interrupted, trying out the new name and earning a sharp glare from the girl that startled him. “ _ Why are you crying?” _ he continued cautiously.

“I can speak Korean,” she reminded him, making him realize why she seemed so angry at his simple  _ English _ question. “ _ I’m not completely useless _ ,” she mumbled.

“I know you can speak Korean. I just thought it might be a comfort to speak your first language.” He paused, scared to further upset the girl. “Would you prefer Korean? Was it not a good idea to assume English was more comfortable for you?”

“I’m fine with either, but from the confused look Junhui Oppa is giving us I think we should probably switch to Korean,” she joked, forcing another smile. “  _ I mean unless you can speak Chinese. _ ” She smirked slightly as the foreign and heavily accented words graced her lips.

Joshua stared at her with clueless eyes as Junhui chuckled softly under his breath. Nova huffed, slumping back down on the couch. She ran a hand through the tangling cotton candy curls resting atop her head before looking back up at her mentors.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I should’ve told you before you got involved with this. It was selfish, even if BubbleGum told me not to.”

“Hmm?” Vernon hummed, sitting on the couch next to her, seeming surprisingly at ease. “What do you mean?”

Without waiting for her answer, he took her hand and lowered it, the mask coming along with it. He stared at her a moment, his amber eyes bright with a playful affection when she ducked her head. With a gentle touch, he tilted her chin, making her look at him for the first time without a mask to hide behind. 

Her heart stopped as he inspected her, wondering what he was going to think, what any of them thought about what lied behind the mask. 

“Ay-la? Aella?” he said softly, setting off a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “Is that how you pronounce it? That’s your name?”

Gingerly, she took his hand, opening his palm before writing with her finger the simple characters she had written so many times:  _ 애라.  _ The girl closed his hand after, a soft blush still brightening her cheeks. 

Out of nowhere, a realization set in. “You don’t seem to care.”

“Care about what?” 

She paused for a moment, the happy feeling in her chest quickly sinking. “You saw my face. You know that I have no future as an idol if my mask comes off,” her words trembled ever so slightly, “but you don’t seem to care.”

“Why would I?” the rapper asked. 

Vernon looked down at the mask that was still in his hand. He made a quick note of the girl’s desperate look. Registering that she wanted nothing more than to go back to hiding behind the mask, he set it aside. He took her hands, a nervous knot forming in both their stomachs. 

“You don’t need to hide behind this,” he assured, giving the girl before him a shy smile. “Not when you’re with us.”

For a moment, it all slipped away. The fruity gum she used to hide the bitter taste of bile, the soft silk of her skirt, the sweet lemon and strong scent of cologne someone sprayed a bit too much of--none of it was even a blip on her raydar.  

All there was, was him and her.

“Our girl is so blushy,” Jun cooed, snapping the two out of their little world and plopping down on the couch beside her with a bright smile. 

“ _ Your _ girl?” she said, the redness worsening. 

“Our mentee, our girl--whatever you want to call yourself.” 

“You’re still my mentors?” 

“Of course,” Joshua replied with a glimmer of a smirk.

“No way!” Aella exclaimed. 

Her bubbly giggles were soon cut off by a phone beeping, a sharp sound she had heard a million times before. She let out a strangled sound of protest as Minghao picked it up, reading the text out loud.

“Wife: You’re gonna do great, jagiya~”

Jun hovered over Minghao’s shoulder, watching the phone’s screen as more and more messages appeared. He read the next text as it popped up on the home screen, a smirk on his lips. 

“Good luck, babe! Heart heart heart,” his voice was tinted with humor. “You’re doing great babyyyyyy.” The phone buzzed again. “I know I’m not there, but shut up, you’re doing great, okay, okay.”

“Damn it,” Aella cursed. She held her hand out; Minghao gave back her phone. She dialed a number without really looking and held the phone to her ear. “Jagiya? Yeah. No. I’m not at my check in. Yup. Yup. I’m with my mentors. Yes. They saw that. Okay. I’ll explain don’t worry, babe. My backgrounds? Probably not--they said nothing. Okay. Okay. See you soon. Bye.”

The girl quickly hung up, setting the phone on the table before looking at her mentors with timid stone-blue eyes.

“I have two questions,” Minghao said plainly. “One: You’re married?”

“No,” Aella responded without a beat. “At least not technically. My wife is my member, Skye--Kelsi is her actual name. Kels and I got married,” she used air quotations, “the summer after our junior year of high school ‘cause why not.”

“So you married your...”

“My best friend. She’s my platonic soulmate. There’s no romantic feelings, but we are meant to be together,” Aella explained. She paused as she caught their confused eyes. “She’s my pretend wife because she’s my best friend,” she summarized.

“Oh,” the youngest breathed, confused beyond belief, while Jun smiled and nodded behind him, pretending as if he had the slightest grasp on what she was saying.

Aella laughed. “What was your second question, Myungho Oppa?”

“Why the fuck is Jun your screen saver?”

This caught Aella off guard, turning her blood cold. Her cheeks flared. She ducked her head, longing for her mask as her face flared. 

“You’re my screensaver too, Oppa,” she whispered.

“What?”

She held out the phone, offering it to her mentors without lifting her head. Minghao turned it on, glancing at the screensaver. A light blush graced his cheeks. The photo she’d set as her background was on the old side, but he recognized it right away. Jun was a blonde back when the photo was taken; his hair was dyed light brown. They were leaning into each other, Jun holding the “Show Champion” plaque close to his lips.

“It’s one of my favorite pictures of you guys,” she confessed, keeping her head buried. “I could change it if it bothers you.”

“Did you change it because we’re your mentors?” Minghao asked, handing over her phone.

She laughed harshly. “Yeah. I am not the type of person to kiss up to people like that. This has been my background for almost a month.”

“Why?”

Aella lifted her head, giving him an “are-you-freaking-stupid” look. She threw back her head, giggles exploding from the girl.

“I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed. Millions of girls my age do this  _ and  _ you have to know at least to some extent. I love you.” She smiled brightly. “I love you. I’ve only ever gotten this far into two K-Pop groups and I am proud to call myself a carat. Having my wreckers as my background is not a thing I need to be ashamed of.” She scratched the back of her neck, her voice dipping to a whisper. “The only thing I think I need to be ashamed of is all the fic I read and the fact I watched that 15 second clip of Who at least five thousand times.”

Hansol--who still sat next to her--laughed, while her other mentors seemed to have missed her words.

“I’m your wrecker?” Minghao asked tentatively. She nodded eagerly.

“If you don’t like the picture, as soon as I can find a clear digital copy of this picture, I’m gonna change it to that photo from your Going Seventeen era where you two had matching sweaters. That was so cute .” She gave Minghao a guilty smile. “And, once again, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can change it to Bong Bong or BTS’ V or something.”

“What’s your other background?”Jun asked, a cocky smirk gracing his lips.

“My bias.”

“So me?”

She laughed. “ _ My dear, you are so cocky, _ ” she teased, the cantonese a bit awkward on her tongue.

“It’s not me?” Jun feigned pain, fluttering a hand over his heart dramatically. “How could you, Aella? I thought we had something!”

“Nah,” she laughed.

Jun took her hand in his. The girl stiffened, shocked by the sudden move, a common sign of affection. In the blink of an eye, Jun took her phone, opening up her hand and using her thumb to unlock it. He let out a victorious shout, closing out the messaging app before glancing at the background.

“You have two biases?” he asked. She shook her head, glaring up at him. “Then why are

Wonwoo and Mingyu your other screen saver?”

“OH!” she exclaimed. “I changed it. Thank Jisoos.”

“Did you just say thank Jisoos?” Joshua said, but his voice was overpowered by Jun’s enthusiastic ramblings.

“Who’s your bias? C’mon you can tell me. I’m your mentor. You can trust me.”

Aella leaned back into the couch, smiling as Minghao pushed Jun in his shoulder, mumbling an order for him to calm down. Jun shoved him playfully, chuckling softly.

She glanced over at Hansol, noticing a pale blush on his cheeks and a small smile on his lips. His dark amber eyes met hers, sending shivers down her spine, making her cheeks flare up out of nowhere. 

“You ready to go?” Joshua asked his mentee, glancing down at his phone.

“Go where?” the girl asked. “Does Jinyoung-ssi want me? Yeseul-ssi?”

“Not that I know of.” Joshua shut off his phone and slid it in his pocket with a triumphant gleam in his eye. “We’re going to--” His phone buzzed and he pulled it out from his pocket again, laughing slightly at the message he’d received. “Okay we’re not going to barbeque. Jeonghan is refusing to leave the dorm.” He sighed, running a hand through his light brown hair. “But he’s paying! Just ordered food. Should be there in forty minutes. We should go then.”

“Me too?” Aella asked hesitantly when the eldest gave her an expectant look.

“I’m pretty sure you should actually meet your other mentors,” Minghao’s voice was dripping with a taunting humor, “I mean unless you don’t want to.”

The girl shot up, a smile brighter than the sun on her lips. The realization that she wasn’t going to lose them was finally setting in, along with a happiness swelling in her chest at the idea of not only meeting, but working with all of them. It was a euphoric feeling. 

As she stood, Aella finally realized why Hansol was blushing. She dropped his hand suddenly, bowing then apologizing. The elder mentors burst out laughing as they realized what had happened between the two, while Hansol and Aella became rosy and flustered.

“Let’s go before these two do something and die of embarrassment,” Minghao laughed.

 


	9. Chapter Eight

It was almost eerie how quickly the girl’s emotions could change. Not twenty minutes before, she was devastated, thinking that the future she’d always wanted was gone. Now she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, excitement coursing through her as she followed her mentors around like a little puppy.

The eldest pointed to a door down a long hall, tossing the youngest his keys. Hansol-- _ Vernon _ , she scolded herself--snatched them up and unlocked the door. 

Nova expected chaos, to be honest. With thirteen men living in a small dorm with limited space and shared bedrooms, what else would most people expect? To her surprise, she was met with quiet. 

A small man was curled up on a beat up couch, typing vigorously on his laptop. His honey-blonde hair fell in his eyes, his lips pressed in an half-dead expression. Another man sat on the couch next to his, finger prepped to turn the page of the novel he was obviously engrossed in. 

Both were jaw-droppingly beautiful, something she had known for quite a while, but seeing them in real life--it was something she doubted she’d ever forget. 

“The masked trainee,” the small man mused, looking up from his work for just a moment to inspect her before returning to the screen. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Jihoon--Seventeen’s producer, Woozi.”

The girl bowed, suddenly flustered. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Nova--the masked trainee works too. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

The taller man looked up as if he was noticing her for the first time. Round wire glasses rested low on his sharp nose. His dark brown eyes flashed a quick glimpse of sympathy. He tucked a thin piece of paper in the folds of his book before standing and walking over towards the girl. 

Embarrassingly enough, she found her heart beat picking up speed with each step he took, her cheeks becoming redder and redder as he neared.

“Nice to meet you, Nova,” he said, his low voice turning her legs to jelly. He offered his hand which she quickly shook, a coy smile on her lips. “I’m Jeon Wonwoo.”

“She knows who you are, Won,” Jun chimed in. “You’re her background.”

The girl groaned. “ _ Junhui-ge, _ ” she whined, the cantonese as uncomfortable to her as it had always been. “ _ You said I could trust you.” _

“I said you could trust your  _ mentors _ ,” the Chinese man corrected. “Wonwoo is your mentor too.” He turned on his heel to his fellow 96-Liner. “Just so she doesn’t get mad at me, her background is you and Gyu-ah.”

Wonwoo simply chuckled, making the girl blush. She pulled gently on the tips of her fingers, shuffling her feet back and forth. 

“It was a cute picture,” she defended, holding out the phone for him to see. “And just like Soonyoung--Hoshi Oppa, sorry--said, you two look good together. 

“When did he say that?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed with a shrug. “At some fanmeet. Like three years ago?”

“And you remember that?” Jun inquired, his eyes alight with curiosity. “After three year, you remember something random one of us said at a fanmeet?”

“Yeah,” she said with a soft laugh. “Hoshi Oppa got the entire fandom messed up over that. Meanie fanservice was big back then.”

“So you’re really a fan,” he smiled, making the girl hide her face in Jun’s side, struggling to keep her cool. 

“I thought your dorm would be a lot louder than this,” Nova mumbled, doing her best to change the subject. “It’s kind of creeping me out. How are thirteen boys so quiet?”

“Most of our group is out,” Jihoon muttered, not looking up from his laptop. “It’s Wonwoo and I, and Jeonghan Hyung and Seungcheol Hyung are in their room. The others are out picking up the food Hyung ordered. They should be home any minute, so if you’re looking for it to be loud, you’ll get what you’re looking for.” 

As if on cue, the front door burst open. A small crowd of idols hurried in the room, weighed down with bags. 

“HEY!” one of the young men shouted the moment he caught a glimpse of the masked girl. Dropping the bags on the floor, tripping up the idol behind him, he rushed over to the girl. “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S ACTUALLY YOU! NICE TO MEET YOU, NOVA! I’M SEUNGKWAN!”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M TALKING TO FREAKING BOO SEUNGKWAN!” Nova shouted back, just as enthusiastically. “YOU HAVE THE VOCALS OF A GOD. MY FRIENDS AND I ADORE YOU! Well...except maybe Skye, but I think she’s mainly just pissed that she’s not allowed to ever touch you if she went to a fanmeet or whatever.”

The mood fell. 

“She’s...what?”

“Oh,” Nova mumbled, running a nervous hand through her long pastel hair. “My member, Skye--she isn’t allowed to touch you. Ever. My other member, Cora, made that rule almost two years ago.”

“Why isn’t she allowed to touch me?” Seungkwan asked, a bit nervous to hear whichever disaster of an explanation the girl was sure to have.

“We were talking about how we found it funny how one of the facts on your Pledis bio is you’re allergic tomatoes--even though you just dislike them--and she decided to ask if touching someone allergic to tomatoes with a tomato could be considered an attempt at murder. Cora decided to put you on Skye’s ‘No List’ and--”

“I find it a bit concerning that you just implied that there’s a  _ list _ of people that she’s not allowed to touch  _ and  _ that she isn’t the only one with a list,” Jihoon noted.

“The lists aren’t too long,” Nova defended with a soft scoff. “It’s literally just our Ultimate Biases--our overall favorites. Who’s on my list?” she pondered aloud, earning a small laugh from one of her new mentors. 

“This I want to hear,” Seungkwan said with a devious smirk, leaning forward and resting his chin on the back of his hand. His dark brown eyes were bright with humor and affection--the girl was  _ appealing _ . 

“I’m not allowed to touch BAP’s Zelo, BTS’ Suga, or Dreamcatcher’s Yoohyeon--they’re all Skye’s. And Cora biases BTS’ J-Hope and--well, you, Seungkwan. Since I’ve never accidentally threatened an idol’s life, I only have those few. Skye on the other hand has a few more than that.”

“Are you that worried that she might actually kill someone?” Mingyu chuckled, his wide smile showing off his surprisingly sharp canines. 

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Nova returned in a monotone voice. She laughed suddenly, continuing to confuse the men around her with her wishy-washy moods. “She may be a sweetheart, but I do not doubt her ability to slaughter someone if the need arose.”

“That is...dark,” Jun said softly.

“I’m sorry, Oppa. I’m a bit nervous and I kind of lose that part of my brain that processes what I say before I say it when I get this nervous.” She turned to Jihoon. “I think you’d like her; she’s an angsty smol fluff like you.” She paused, suddenly stiffening. “I don’t think I should have said that either.”

The girl gave the young man a curt bow, turning a few degrees to the right before bowing again, the tradition constant for them turning a bit tedious in the American’s opinion. She slipped out of the living room, taking Jun’s hands with a gentle touch and mumbling her thanks as she did. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m...yeah...I’m gonna go.” She bowed one last time, heading towards the door. “It was amazing meeting you all.”

“Not so fast,” Jun chided. Nova ignored him. He threw the girl over his shoulder with surprising ease as she reached the door. “I said you weren’t going anywhere,” he laughed, shooting her a heart melting smirk.

The girl whined, pounding lightly on his back, not wanting to hurt the man who had earned a permanent spot in her heart, but also wanting to be allowed to escape. 

“ _ Junhui-ge, put me down. Let me leave. Please! _ ” the girl pleaded in her mentor’s native tongue as a last ditch effort.

“I will put you down,” he said as he set the thrashing girl gently on the couch between him and Wonwoo. “But you aren’t going anywhere.”

“ _ But I already made a fool of myself,”  _ she continued in the hardest of the languages she knew, both for the appeal and for the anonymity of their conversation. “ _ What if I start calling people my son or making fandom jokes _ ?”

“Who the fuck is your son?” Minghao asked in Korean, startling and confusing his members. 

Nova looked the man in his eyes, a cold sound in her voice, “You are my son.” Silence hung in the air. Everyone stared at the girl, unsure what to think of her odd presence. She pressed her lips in a thin line. All of a sudden a shrill whine came from the girl. “GOD DAMN IT, JUNHUI! I TOLD YOU I’D END UP MAKING AN EVEN BIGGER FOOL OF MYSELF!”

She huffed, pushing herself up off the couch and heading back to the door with a drooping head. A chorus of laughter made her jump. Seungkwan threw his arm around the girl’s shoulders before leading her back to the cluster of couches his members crowded around. 

Each member was laughing--even Jihoon, who tried to hide his giggles behind his laptop. She wasn’t sure if it was  _ at _ her or more  _ with  _ her, but their laughter was loud and oddly soothing.

“How is Minghao your son?” Seungkwan asked, his voice shaking as he struggled to keep from laughing. 

“He’s...just my son,” she answered with a nervous smile. “It’s something some fangirls do: pick out their ‘children’, just like they do their biases.”

“So you chose Xiao Hao Hao as your son?” Jun asked, getting punched in the arm the moment the despised nickname was uttered.

“Yes,” the girl said shyly, twirling a lock of her cotton-candy hair around her dainty finger and shuffling her feet. 

“Why?” Minghao asked. His tone shocked the girl. There was no bite to it, just a genuine curiosity that calmed the girl’s endless nerves. He was softer than he liked to let on. Kinder. Especially with her. 

“Do you have any more sons?” Mingyu questioned, snapping her attention from the dancer with his humor tinted voice.  

The girl answered his question with a soft, genuine laugh that surprised her newest mentors. Slowly, the tension left her body as they joked and laughed, trying to ease the girl out of her awkwardness before getting to know her. 

With a groan, another man entered the already cramped room, the final idol right behind. He dragged his feet as he scanned the room with a dazed expression on his almost femininely beautiful face. His sleepy eyes fixed on Mingyu with the anger of a cold-blooded killer.

“You’re so loud,” Jeonghan scolded in some cross between a whine and a groan. “I wanted to get some sleep before--”

“You’re so pretty,” the idol-to-be breathed, cutting him off without a second thought. Her eyes were full of a starry wonder as they traced his almost feminine features. He was beautiful, almost unfairly so. “Oh. Shit.” She cringed, cursing herself for swearing in front of the man she’d just met. “I’m sorry. The volume problem was my fault.” She paused, staring at his messy, brown-black hair. “Oh, wow. You are really so pretty.” The words came again, surprising her into clamping her hand over her mouth. 

Seungkwan laughed, a warm gleam in his eyes and a mildly offended look on his face. “Should I be upset that I didn’t get a reaction like this?” he joked. 

“No! I don’t want to offend you by any means, I promise. It’s just…” her voice faded, then shot back up as it raised three octaves in pitch. “God damn it. I just wanted to make a good impression, but I ended up calling Minghao Oppa my son and getting flat out floored by how pretty Jeonghannie Oppa is.” She let out a gargled scream, curling into herself. “Jun, could I please go?”

“No.”

Nova groaned, earning a gentle touch. It was a simple movement, oddly intimate. Jun’s fingers moved softly through her hair. She leaned into the touch despite herself. The girl rested her head on his shoulder as his hand guided her.

He wrapped a loose arm around her waist in an almost possessive movement, silently warning his other members that, in a way, she was his. Taking a few deep breaths, breathing in the unfamiliar scent that was him, she quickly calmed.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually said, focusing on her words, doing her best to keep them respectful and her tone even. “It’s just you’re even prettier in person than the guy on the posters in my bedroom.”

“Are you Nova? Our Masked Trainee the boys can’t stop talking about?” he asked. She nodded, a fierce blush forming beneath her mask. “We got a carat as a trainee?” She nodded again. “I’m Jeonghan,” he said, sitting on the arm of the couch she and Jun was on, holding out his hand for her to shake. “You need to calm down a bit. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“There is,” she sighed, shaking his hand with a weary smile. “My chances to be an idol depend entirely on about four things. More than one of those things rely on how I get along with you. I am completely in awe of you all,” she rambled. “I can’t keep a straight head. I’m so scared of disrespecting you or annoying you that I might be going crazy.”

“Breathe,” the second eldest interrupted, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Everything will be fine. Just breathe and calm down as much as you can.” He brushed the cotton-candy hair out of her face with his fingertips. “You can tell us about yourself while we eat. I feel like there’s a lot for you to tell,” he said, gesturing to her mask.

  
  


_ Where to begin? _ the girl thought, looking at the idols crowding around her, passing around endless foil containers of greasy take out.  _ Where do I draw the line? _

_ Names _ , she thought, her heart filled with a sudden terror.  _ Stage names? Real names? Honorifics? What do I call them? _

“My name is Nova,” she began.  _ Might as well start with the easy stuff.  _ “I am 19. I speak Korean, English, and Spanish fluently. My Mandarin and Japanese aren’t bad,” she paused, letting out a nervous giggle, “my Cantonese and French kind of are.” She picked up a small piece of chicken, chewing on it for a moment before continuing, “I believe that is all I am allowed to reveal about myself to the public.”

“You’re very mysterious,” Seungkwan noted. “You have the mask and you will only say two things about yourself.”

The girl’s shy eyes found her lap, where her mentor’s hand rested in hers. She examined Jun’s long fingers and perfectly trimmed nails--the epitome of beautiful, even if he wasn’t currently trying. She was jealous, to be blunt. 

“The mask is because I don’t fit Korean beauty standards and never will. Not for regular people and sure as hell not for an idol.” She sighed, feeling Jun’s thumb stroke the back of her shaking hand. “I try to make the masks as pretty as possible to make up for that, but no matter what I do, the eyes will always be creepy.”

“The eyes are a bit unnerving,” Dokyeom confessed. “It’s weird there’s a mirror in there. How can you see what you’re doing?”  
“One way glass,” Nova explained. “Looks like a mirror to you, but it’s like glass to me.”

“You said you make the masks?” the eldest idol asked, leaning closer to the girl to look at each complicated detail. 

“Each one by hand,” the trainee answered with a proud smile.

She reached behind her and grabbed her backpack. She pulled out a mask, passing it down to S.Coups. He examined it closely, looking at the intricate silver engraving on its black surface.

“That one is a work-in-progress, promise,” she laughed, watching him stick a finger through the hollow eyehole. “I still need to put in the eyes and do a couple touch-ups.”

“Why do you do the eyes?” Jihoon asked.

Nova froze, a piece of fried chicken halfway to her mouth. She set it down, allowing herself a moment to think before responding. 

“My company has me do it for a reason. I am not allowed to share this reason. I come to trust you--trust you enough to risk my career before I even have it--then I will share it with you.”

“You must be pretty horrific to be this scared,” the youngest idol said simply, failing to register the innocent cruelty of his words. “Have they seen it?” Dino inquired, his mouth full of half-chewed food. “Your face, I mean.”

“Yes,” the girl said, wincing at his words, but knowing she deserved them with her overly cautious ways. “Not by my choice. I wanted a bit more time. Now they have my career resting in their hands. They could ruin me if they felt like it. 

“Why?” Hansol asked, hurt shining bright in his warm amber eyes. “Don’t you trust us?”

“I do,” she mumbled, dropping Jun’s hand in lieu of pulling harshly on her fingertips. “That’s  _ why  _ I’m so worried. I trust you with everything after the little time we’ve known each other. Most of the people I once trusted have hurt me. You can do so much worse than that.”

“That’s why you have to  _ trust _ us,” Minghao said, scolding her with a little laugh.

She nodded, taking a small bite of her dinner. It was surprisingly comfortable silence that hung in the room. Jun leaned into the girl sitting next to him as she joined the group in their near feast of fried chicken. Her breaths were quick and shallow, doing her best to avoid rocking the dancer’s head as he laid peacefully beside her. 

“I’m almost done with studying in America--two more months,” Nova informed, breaking the silence. “I’ll be a full time trainee after that; I’m moving to Seoul at the very end of June. Maybe we can do something like this again.”

“I’m always up for fried chicken,” Joshua laughed, shooting the girl a heart-stopping smile. 

“ _ Chicken heals our hearts, my dude _ ,” the girl said, her English dripping with a sassy, almost snotty tone, earning a soft snort from Hansol. 

“What’s it like studying in America?” Soonyoung asked. “Hyung never told us much about his high school experience.”

“ _ That’s probably because he wore a girl’s clothes at church camp, _ ” the girl said in the foreign tongue, earning a glare from the American in question. 

“Just tell them what it’s like to be on exchange in a foreign country,” Joshua retorted, a devious, sly look on his face as he taunted her.

“It isn’t too much fun. People are cruel. The suicide rates are extremely high--I’m pretty sure it’s the highest in the state. When you google my school’s name, the second result to come up is ‘--student death’. The classes are strenuous and boring and somehow hold no value in the real world. I swear to god, the American education system is a wash.”

Wonwoo chuckled. “You seem very passionate about that.”

“You’re able to understand what they say during your classes?” Seungcheol asked. 

“Yeah!” The girl laughed. “When I said I was fluent in English, I meant it. Like not even Vernon-fluent. Joshua-fluent.” Her lips curved upwards as she earned a laugh for her stupid analogy. “I understand everything,” she assured. “I’m an honors student in all my classes.”

“Smart, sassy,  _ and  _ a carat?” Jeonghan laughed. The angelic-looking singer turned to the eldest American, whispering words she just barely caught, “I’m already starting to like her.”


	10. Chapter Nine

The tiny girl huddled in her pale pink hoodie, struggling to keep warm in the freezing, nighttime air. Aella wrapped her sleeves around her hands before stuffing them in the pocket. Hanging her head, she shuffled through the streets, pushing past the handful of people who still wandered the city despite the odd hour. 

Continuing with the series of random lefts and rights, she drifted through the endless, twisting streets. Aella had nowhere she needed to be, so she wandered, although the small voice in the back of her head pressed her to head back to her hotel. 

It was intoxicating in a way--the fluctuating stream of people, the bright lights and endless noises, the smells that were new to her American senses. For years, Aella had dreamed about visiting Seoul, but finally being there she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. 

Letting her exhaustion weigh her down, she slumped onto a bench, opting to stare at the deep blue sky above her. The moon was almost non-existent, just a tiny sliver of shining silver far above. And the stars. She had always found comfort in the stars, but tonight, they were gone. Not a single one in the sky. 

A gust of sweet-smelling air attacked her, blowing her pastel hair every which way. She laughed, a soft, hollow sound void of any emotion. Yellowed lights caressed the budding trees around her, casting their warm glow on her as well. She cocked her head innocently, a dead smile playing at her lips.

It was gorgeous. All of it. Simply and utterly gorgeous. But of course she couldn’t enjoy any of it. 

“I can hear you,” the girl breathed into the night, her words nearly flying away in the strong burst of air that sent a shiver down her spine. “You must not be as sneaky as you thought.”

For a moment, she waited for a response, second guessing herself. But eventually another warm body took up the space beside her on the bench. Without bothering to check who it was, she rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the faded scent of his once strong cologne. He shifted, wrapping an arm loosely around her, resting his chin atop her head.

“How did you find me, Jun?” Aella asked, mumbling her words into his shirt as she tried to steal her mentor’s warmth. 

“I followed you,” he confessed shamelessly, carding his fingers through her hair. “This city isn’t the best place for a girl to be on her own. Especially not at night. I just wanted to make sure you got back to your hotel okay.”

She hummed into his shirt, but voiced no complaint nor her thanks for his consideration. Her fingers were numb, even in their cocoon-like sweater paws. Jun continued with his soft, stray touches, warming her up from the inside out.

“Why did you come out here?” he asked, his silky voice soft between the shrill honks of a motorcycle zooming by just a few meters away.

“I needed to think,” she sighed, her hand finding one of his, their fingers twisting together so naturally that you would’ve thought they’d done it a million times before. 

“Are you sure that’s all?”

The idol’s question hung in the air for a moment. The girl made no move to respond--maybe because she knew the answer was no, maybe because she could already feel it all welling up inside her. 

Tears burned the corners of her eyes as bitter bile rose in her throat. She pushed it down best she could, but the sharp nausea stayed. Her tiny breaths rattled as the sobs hit her. It was all so much--too much. 

“It’ll all be okay,” Jun whispered, rubbing her shoulder with a nervous, comforting touch as she shook in his arms. 

The panic finally set in. Hyperventilating, shaking, clawing at her face. She couldn’t breathe. She needed the mask off. Every molecule in her body screamed the simple desire, and yet, she couldn’t peel it off.

“It’ll all be okay,” he said, earning another sob.

She didn’t believe him for a moment. Even if he had his experience, even if he knew so much more about the entire ordeal, she couldn’t believe him. 

With sure movements, Jun turned her to face him. He peeled off the sealant and popped it off her tear slickened face, mumbling sweet nothings as he did. He wiped the tears with his thumb as they fell, peppering her forehead with tiny kisses. The idol caressed his trainee’s cheek, lifting the poor girl’s chin, making her look him in the eye.

“It’ll all be okay,” he repeated, but this time it was a promise.

Aella shook her head, her hands trembling as he set down the mask next to them on the bench. Panic surged up through her chest and up her throat again and again, suffocating her with its miserable bitter taste. 

She sobbed. And he let her. Jun sighed, saying nothing. He rubbed circles in the small of her back, leaving small kisses across her face. But he let her sob. In that moment, it was all she needed. 

  
  


It took Aella nearly an hour to calm down. Jun sat with the sobbing girl nonetheless, doing his best to comfort her despite being completely clueless as to how. Soon after the sobs stopped and her trembles faded into occasional shivers, he spoke, hesitant and suddenly shy.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, cringing at how stupid his question sounded.  _ Not freaking good, obviously. _

“A bit better,” she hiccuped, sitting up straight and drying her face with the back of her hands. 

She wasn’t a pretty crier. There was no resemblance of beauty in her hour of harsh sobs. But now? The idol-to-be looked like an utter mess. Her eyes were red and cheeks splotchy, tears having washed away any trace of makeup she once had. As unladylike as it was, the very ends of her sleeves were drenched with tears and snot. 

“Good enough to go for a little walk?” She nodded, making the idol smile down at her. “We’re gonna get something into you, okay?” He plucked her mask off the bench, holding it up in a questioning manner. “I mean...If we get caught together?”

Aella let out a shaky breath, pulling the adhesive from her backpack. Jun took it from her, giving her a nervous smile. He opened the container and applied it carefully before holding it out for the girl to press to her face. 

Giving her a hand, he pulled her off the bench, scooping her into a hug before she could do anything else. She shuddered, the exhaustion weighing so heavily on her shoulders. Slowly, he let her go, taking her hand before leading her on the path out of the dimly lit park and away from their bench. 

He looked almost angelic in the odd lighting, the silvery moon and the yellowed street lights. They highlighted the sharp angle of his jawline and his defined cheekbones. And his lips--the gorgeous curve of his cupid’s bow was impossible to drag her eyes away from. 

Junhui guided her through the city that was just as unfamiliar to him a few years earlier as it was to her now. He led her with a sudden urgency, practically dragging her through the streets until they found a corner store. He was in the back then at the cashout in the blink of an eye, forcing an icy bottle of water in her hands before she could mutter a word of protest. 

“Drink,” he ordered, his voice the most serious she’d ever heard. “Drink, Aella,” he insisted, taking back the bottle and cracking it open. “You were crying for  _ forever _ ; you need to drink something.”

With nervous hands, she took it back. The girl took a small sip before gulping it down the moment she realized how thirsty she was. Her mentor gave a small laugh before disappearing, coming back a minute later with another. She nodded her thanks before finishing off half that bottle as well.

“Ready?” he asked, taking the bottle from her hand and slipping it in her backpack. “There’s a little bakery just down the street from here--the only good one I’ve found that’s open 24/7. It’s the first thing I wanted to show you here.”

The girl followed him out of the shop and through a series of rights and lefts. They’d only walked a few blocks before he pointed to a tiny bakery sign, hidden in the monstrous maze of Seoul.

A tiny ding rung out in the room as he pushed the door open, holding it open for his trainee before following her in. It was a small little shop, not too uncommon, but apparently precious to the dancer. A small woman popped out from behind the counter, surprisingly perky for such a late hour. 

“Do you want your regular, Junhui-ah?” the woman asked. She cocked her head to the side, realizing that the idol had brought a friend. “Or menus for you and your friend?”

“I’m fine with whatever you recommend,” the girl chirped, cringing at how  _ broken _ her voice sounded. “Or his regular. Whichever is easiest for you.”

“And tea, please,” Jun put in. “The white lemon one?”

“Of course,” the woman said, a genuine smile gracing her thin lips. “Just take whichever table you like and I’ll be out in just a few moments.”

The dancer led his trainee to a table in the back corner, pulling out a chair for her before taking one himself. The two fell into quiet, calm conversation, waiting for their sweets. True to her word, the woman came back mere minutes later, setting a tray of tea and pastries on their table. He poured the aromatic tea for himself and Aella, a playful, deviant smile on his lips. 

“Did you know you smell like this?” he asked, pushing the cup towards the girl. “Sweet. Like candied lemons.”

Aella giggled softly, blowing on the burning hot liquid. “I do know that, but, as much as I’ve been trying to figure it out, I still do not know  _ why  _ I smell like lemon candy.”

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, munching on a confusing combination of Chinese egg tarts, French macarons, and Korean rice cakes in between sips of sweet-smelling tea. The foreigners exchanged a look.

“Junnie?”

“Yes, Aella?”

“I’m scared,” she confessed, her voice cracking with the two simple words. 

“I know.”

“How did you do it?”

“I had my members,” he admitted with a shrug. “And you have us. It’ll all be okay, Aella. I promise.”


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been inactive for so long. I had college applications and then decided to try and knock out my first draft of a novel I am so extremely excited about (and did so in a month). I'm going to try to get back into the posting once a week habit again, partially due to one of my friends begging me for more Aella, so we'll see how it goes. Once again, I am so sorry to any of you who actually read my stuff.

In the days that followed, the idol-to-be wished nothing more than to return to her night with Jun--at least after the crying bit. It was easy with him, the calm conversations and comforting touches. With him, she could just be Aella, not the terror stricken little girl who wanted her ten seconds of fame. 

Even with the other guys, there was a tension they couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how bad she wanted. But with each giggling night they spent together, she could feel the barriers separating them breaking.

“Almost done,” a voice said, interrupting the girl’s thoughts.

Aella slowly looked up at the owner of the voice--Nova’s new stylist--as she fussed over her work. 

She was pretty, simply so. A tiny little thing, shorter than even Aella. The woman’s look leaned more western with her winged eyeliner and low cut shirt. She was older than Aella--no more than two or three years from the look of it. 

Her almond eyes shone bright with a panicked amusement, the hazel coloring catching whatever light there was like a kaleidoscope. It was gorgeous--endearing, even. She stepped back, cracking her knuckles and giving the younger a satisfied smile.

Slowly, Aella slid out of her chair, making her way over to the mirror. Her mouth cracked open, here eyes widening. No longer was she the dorky teenager who hid in clothes twice as large as they needed to be. As she looked at herself, an exhilarated smile rose on her face. 

She looked  _ badass _ . A bit slutty in her opinion, but badass all the same.

Her pastel hair was pulled out of her face in a loose ponytail, a black bandana tied around her head, knotted at the back. A few stray curls hung to frame her face, the only delicate thing about her in that moment.  

The teen wore fishnets under black, high waisted shorts that were a bit too short for her taste, but attractive nonetheless. A plain black t-shirt was tight across her torso and tucked into her shorts, two white words across her chest: “ew, people”. Her jewelry was simple, just a choker, a set of woven black bracelets, and a handful of tiny silver stars pierced through her ears. Sturdy-looking black combat boots were laced up to her knees. 

Behind her, the stylist held a black and white varsity jacket in her left hand and a leather jacket peppered with pins in her right. She extended her arms in a silent offering, the idol-to-be taking the latter with a shy smile.

“Thank you, Mina,” she said as the stylist helped her into her new jacket, obsessing over her for a moment before slipping to the other side of the room and back.

“Last little bit,” the elder--Mina--said. 

The girl pursed her lips, glancing at the stylist, or rather the object in her hand. The mask she held was the same Nova had shown S.Coups two days before--black with silver words engraved with a gentle hand. 

Taking Aella’s small nod as the go-ahead, Mina flipped the mask in her hand, coating the edges with adhesive. In a surprisingly swift and seemingly effortless series of movements, she pulled back the trainee’s curls from her face and pressed the it tight against her. 

“You like it?” Mina asked meekly. “I’m sure I can change it up a bit before you  _ have  _ to be out there, if you want.”

“I don’t even look like myself,” Aella breathed, twisting back and forth in the mirror, getting glances from as many angles as she could. “I absolutely love it.”

“Anonymity, am I right?” her stylist laughed. “You nervous?” she questioned bluntly, running a thumb under the younger’s lower lip, cleaning up her dark pink lipstick. Aella nodded, seeing no point in such an obvious lie. “We all are a bit nervous,” she said, playing with the other girl’s curl. 

“We all are?”

“You’re not the only one who’s career depends on your popularity,” she said, continuing to fuss over each little detail. “There’s you, of course. But me too. And Kyung. We keep our jobs as long as you have yours.”

“Kyung?”

“I was summoned?”

Aella spun on her heel, turning towards the door and the man standing under its frame. He was on the shorter side with a mess of black hair shaved cleanly on the sides. He held himself with an unwavering pride and an almost devious look in his eyes. 

“Hey,” Mina said, giving him a nod with the greeting. “Kyung, this is the soon-to-be masked idol, Nova. Nova, this is Kyung, one of your photographers.”

The American bowed stiffly, not knowing what else to do. She straightened awkwardly as the man laughed. He stepped towards her, holding out his hand for her to shake. His smile was crooked and held an odd aura she had trouble placing. There was fear, no doubt about that, but something else--something...hungry. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, sliding his hands back in his pockets. “I want to get as many shots in as possible before we have to change sets, if that’s okay with you.”

Like a lost puppy, the idol-to-be followed the photographer out of the room and around the twisting halls of the set, slipping between clothing racks and ducking beneath backdrops as he held them up for her. Eventually he stopped, leading her onto a plain white set, rather than around it.

Kyung positioned her in the center before quickly sprinting away to where a handful of people waited--people the girl couldn’t quite name, but knew they were somewhat important. He worked quickly and smoothly, setting up his gear. After a handful of glimpses through his lense, he straightened, leaning over the camera.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asked, grinning. “You kind of need to smile,” he teased, thankfully with no real bite behind it. “Or just...not look awkward--whichever you prefer.”

Mumbling a quick apology, she bowed her head. Aella took a sharp breath in, holding it a second. For a moment, she let it build up--the worry, the desperation, the innocence Aella held and the pressure almost suffocating Nova. She exhaled as she unclenched her fists, letting it all go. 

It came surprisingly easy for her the moment she put back up her front, the moment she let herself become Nova. Out of nowhere she radiated a gorgeous confidence so different from mere seconds before. She tilted her head, a smirk on her lips. 

Kyung shot her a thumbs up, rushing behind his camera and taking a few shots before holding up a hand, motioning for her to move a bit. She obliged, each movement made with a dramatic flourish. 

The cameras clicked away, an almost constant shrill noise she began to grow used to. Eventually, Kyung handed her a ribbon, asking her to hold it over her eyepieces, giving the next photos a confusing, mysteriously sexy feel. Before she knew it, the shuttering slowed and eventually stopped. 

“Time for you to have a bit of fun,” he said, walking back over to the girl and taking her ribbon. He held up a hand, pointing towards a set she couldn’t quite see.

  
  


The second set was stunning, to say the absolute least. While the first set was plain, just a white backdrop, nothing remotely special about it, this set was a masterpiece--or at least she planned on making it one. 

A beat up, old looking car was in the center, pressed up against a makeshift brick wall. Everything from the floor to the walls were void of any proper brightness. It was confusing how exactly it fit in with her theme, but she'd make it work. 

"So," Nova said cautiously. "What exactly would you like me to do?" She looked over at the stylist, who had finally come out of her little hiding spot in the corner of the first set. "Do you have any advice, Mina Unnie?"

"Play around and have some fun," the photographer answered for the stylist. "Your members are all finished with it, so it's all yours."

"What do you mean?" she inquired, cocking her head. 

Kyung nodded his head to the side, silently gesturing at a small cart towards the back of the set. "Spray paint, baseball bat--try your hand at graffiti, break some shit, whatever you want."

"Really?" she asked, her mouth cracked open as she stared at him.

"Yeah," he said with a warm chuckle. "Like I said: have some fun. Just let us take some pictures and make sure not to hurt yourself.

The girl let out a giddy laugh, skipping happily towards the cart. Her fingers wrapped around a spray paint can, reading the label, her smile growing. She froze for a moment, earning a knowing smile  as she did. 

"Where's your phone?" Mina asked. 

"It should still be on the table where the makeup was laid out."

"Be right back."

True to her word, the stylist was back mere seconds later, the idol-to-be's phone dangling between her fingertips. She didn't  bother with pleasantries, taking Nova's hand and holding her thumb to the screen. As soon as it unlocked, Mina zipped away. There was a soft snap before music began to blare from a small speaker in the corner of the set.

Nova bounced on the balls of her feet,  letting the music move her. She shook the can before decorating the car with neon blue letters. 

If she was being honest, she wasn't really sure what she was doing, but when did she ever? As long as no one started scolding her, she assume she was doing fine. 

The song changed just as the can fizzled out. She tossed it to the side, not quite worrying about hitting anyone, since, thankfully, everyone kept their distance. 

"Another" she called, her voice carrying some mix between demand and question. 

"Which color?" Mina questioned. "Pink, purple, another can of blue?"

"Purple?" Nova replied, almost getting hit in the head with a can of spray paint seconds later. The idol-to-be stumbled after the rolling can, almost tripping before she managed to get it in her hands. "Thanks!"

Doing her best to contain her giggles, the girl continued her masterpiece, moving from the car and slowly spreading onto the bricks. The words slowly came into focus: "the Girl Behind the Mask", over and over again in a half dozen languages.

The can slipped in her sweat-slicked hand, coating her fingers in a burning cold liquid. She hit the bottom of it on her knee, giving herself a better grip before finishing the dainty cursive English. 

"Can I play with the bat now?" she asked, an innocence in her voice despite the violence-laced question. "I wanna break something." The stylist picked it up, making Nova flinch. "Please don't throw that."

"I won't," Mina laughed, walking over and handing it to her. "Are you just gonna swing it around? Get some fake 'badass' shots?"

"Nah," she sighed, tossing the bat in the air and surprising herself as it landed in her hand. She circled the car methodically, dragging the baseball bat behind her. "I'm actually gonna break shit," she chirped before swinging the bat into the side of the car.

It collided with a low rumble, the sound of metal on metal rising even above the obnoxiously loud music. She moved on, knocking the mirror clean off. Her grin was psychotic as she jumped onto the hood and wound up, hitting the windshield. 

The window splintered and cracked, spider webs forming over its entire surface. As the metal bat collided with the glass again, it shattered, sending shards everywhere. Nova hissed softly as the glass caught in her skin. 

Still, she continued to swing, the feeling of the bat in her hand exhilarating. Her hands clenched the leather wrapped grip so tight the knuckles of her purple painted fingers turned white. The destruction gave her a high that rose with each sickening crack.

“Nova, stop!” someone shouted, snapping the trainee out of her daze. “Look at your thighs; your arms!”

Mina cradled the younger girl’s hands in her own, pointing out the countless little nicks all over her arms. She ushered her off to the corner of the set and forcing her into a chair. Taking her time and checking for pieces of left behind glass, the stylist cleaned each cut, covering the worst of them with black band aids that matched whatever mess of a theme they were going for. 

“Be more careful,” the elder scolded, standing and pulling Nova out of her seat. “No more bat, okay? Stick to spray paint. You can’t hurt yourself with that.”

The girl nodded, walking back to her spot beside the car with a childish spring in her step. She took another can--this time pink--from Kyung, who extended it cockily.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Nova,” he taunted, with a soft chuckle. “You don’t want any more boo-boos.” 

Using the car’s bumper as a sort of step stool, she pushed herself up, slipping once or twice as she climbed until she stood on the roof. The music started again and she shook the can, the balls inside clattering against the sides. 

As she continued to paint, she kept stealing quick glances at the people around her. The elder people seemed unimpressed, more or less. To them she must’ve been just another kid who wanted to make it big. 

But Mina and Kyung. Their smiles were bright and  _ genuine _ \--something she was already positive would be hard to find in this unforgiving business she so happily signed up for. 

The music changed as she finished the last of her words. She could tell by the slowing clammer of the cameras that the photographers had gotten their fill of photos; Nova allowed herself to fall into the desire she had felt since the first song had played. 

She jumped, bouncing on the tips of her toes to the beat, singing into the spray paint can she held as if it were a microphone. 

“FEELS LIKE THE LOTTO LOTTO, THE LOTTO LOTTO!” she shouted, the type of smile she couldn’t muster for the cameras bright on her lips. 

Giggles bubbled out of her as she rapped and sang--at least until the last chorus came, that is. 

A few lyrics, a slip of a finger, and a lot of choking. Nova disappeared, evaporating like steam, leaving Aella in her place. She had sprayed herself in the mouth. With spray paint. 

Aella doubled over, a gargled scream echoing off the metal walls of the seemingly endless room she was in. She gagged, spitting out all she could before the bile rose in her throat. A hand held back what hair of her’s fell in her face. Another one rested on her back, but she couldn’t feel. Not with the chemical burn in her mouth muting everything else. 

 

Mina was a goddess--she had to be, treating a stranger with such unadulterated kindness. Mina was so gentle, running her fingers through Aella’s hair, holding her head in her lap as she laid on the cold bathroom floor.

The idol-to-be was weak and shaking, her body plain exhausted from the past half hour of throwing up what little she had in her stomach from the night before. Slowly, she lifted her head, glancing adoringly at the stylist. 

“Hey, Mina?”

“Yes, Aella?” she cooed, stroking her back.

“Do you know that I love you?”

Mina laughed, earning a shallow giggle from the trainee. “Sure you do. You just appreciate having someone to take care of you. You feel good enough to head back to work?” The girl nodded with a groan. “Okay. I’m gonna wash off your mouth--get rid of all the spray paint, okay?”

Slowly, Mina forced Aella into a sitting position, lying her against the stall door. She slipped out, returning a moment with two wet cloths. The stylist scrubbed with the first cloth, the pungent, chemical scent almost making her sick again. 

After a while, she huffed, dropping one towel and picking up the other. The trainee almost moaned into the warm water drenched cloth as it washed away the chemicals coating her face. 

“That good?” the elder teased, handing her a bundle of clothes. “You can change into this. We have a little bit of time before the next part of your shoot starts. A couple of your boys are in your green room and they brought in some food for lunch.”

“They’re so sweet,” Aella sighed, a stupid, giddy smile rising despite the past thirty minutes of sheer misery. “I almost feel guilty for feeling nervous around them.”

She dragged herself off the floor, cradling the bundle of clothing and closing the bathroom door. Mina smiled, leaning against the door.

“ _ You almost feel guilty for feeling nervous around them _ ?” she laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard something like that.”

“Sorry,” the girl huffed, her voice strained as she tugged off her tight clothing. “I’m kind of a stupid, nervous mess.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Mina confessed. “You have a lot riding on you.”  _ And you have a lot riding on me,  _ she added silently with just a look _. _ “There’s a lot of risk”

“You know you’re the only one who has seen behind my mask, right?” she whispered. “The only stylist now and...and I think ever.” Aella gaped for a moment, struggling to pull up words. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but how much crap do you get?”

“You mean for being mixed?”  A nod. “I grew up in LA, babe, so not as much as Hansol. Now, I get a lot more than I ever expected, but not as much as you will while you’re here.” The elder sighed. “That’s probably not what you want to hear.”

“No, I needed it. 

“Ready to be Nova again?” Mina asked, pulling herself back together and hoping the other was doing the same. She held the younger’s mask over the door

The lock clicked. Aella tugged open the door, stepping out in a loose hoodie and jeans. She nervously took down her hair, running her fingers through it. A shy smile shone beneath her mask. 

“Cute.” She took a deep breath before holding the girls shoulders and looking her in the eye--an almost funny sight with their height difference. “I’m gonna promise you something, okay?”

“Okay?”

“I’m gonna be your girl. If you’ll let me I’ll be your friend. If not, I’ll just watch your back. You’re going to trust me and you’re going to not be so cautious about me. Since you’re already at such a disadvantage due to your race, it’ll be nice to have someone you won’t have to worry about. I will keep your secrets and I will protect you to the best of my ability. I know that might not seem like much, but in this business you need to have as much help as you can.”

“Are we really trying to have a deep conversation about race in the bathroom that still reeks of my vomit?” Aella giggled.

“Yes; I guess we are.”


End file.
